Broken Sky
by Joannawrites
Summary: Hard-won peace may prove short-lived when a faceless enemy strikes deep into the heart of Gondor and Rohan. Those involved will journey dark roads in a desperate attempt to keep all from being lost. Post ROTK. ensemble
1. Ill Winds

****

Broken Sky   
by Joanna

*Disclaimer: These characters are, of course, not mine, but I will put them back where I found them at the end of the story…maybe. 

*PG-13 rating may change for later chapters; dark themes and some graphic, but never gratuitous, violence. I will warn you if it does. Beware.

*My many, many thanks to Nilmandra. What you like about this is undoubtedly due to her suggestions. What you don't like is probably due to the ones I didn't heed carefully enough! 

*Finally, I consider both the books and films in my fiction, and I write a combination of book canon and movie-verse. There is one slightly AU bend in this story, which will become apparent soon, but that I do not wish to give away just yet. 

****

Chapter One: Ill Winds

Often now, Legolas walked his garden at night, pacing end to end, measuring the dragging time in footfalls until at last the day began anew and he was able to fill his mind with other things. But always, the stillness after sunset gave way to another voice that rang across the land and echoed in his heart with increasing veracity and persuasion.

It had always been hard for him in this season of earth. When the trees gave over to fiery red and gold, and the fading sun burned away the very life in his beloved plants, lulling them into winter sleep. 

In the spring and the summer, it was not so hard. The trees he loved, the trees he tended, gave him their attention, their muted whisperings, the gentle sighs and comforting murmuring of wind through branches heavy-laden with green leaves. He was of the earth then, could will himself to believe that he still belonged in this place.

It was when the song of the trees was hushed in brown winter that he could not feign deafness to the call of the sea. And so in the waning months, he stayed among his trees at night and he tried to hold their message in his memory, so that in the long season ahead he might have some defense against the sea longing. 

Tonight though, he heard neither the call of the sea, nor the failing voices of the trees and he did not move beneath them. Tonight, he stood rooted in the center of his garden and listened as the wind shrieked of foul things through the branches above. Great clouds boiled at the horizon, rolling over one another and rising ever higher until it seemed they might topple the world. 

__

What comes upon this ill wind? 

There was a warning in this night. He could feel it in the too warm air shimmering about him, could feel the danger of the storm stalking his thoughts. 

He looked towards Minas Tirith, wondering if perhaps he was not alone in his vigil tonight.

And overhead, lightning crashed to Middle Earth in white flame, and the clouds opened at last and bled from the fractured sky. 

*~*~*~*~*

She came awake slowly to the fluttering in her womb and smiled in sleepy contentment as she eased a hand across the slight swell that was the child growing within her. Wondering if perhaps Aragorn would be able to feel the babe move at last, she stretched a leg lazily toward him. 

She had many creative ways of bringing him from sleep; most of them were likely to blame for her currently swollen state, but this one in particular was perhaps her favorite. To feel him bolt upright from dead sleep and curse as she pressed icy feet to his legs never failed to give her great amusement. 

However, her foot stretched and searched and she did not find him there, and at last, she opened her eyes and discovered that he had left her side. She turned over slowly and found him brooding at the window, the tapestries pulled open as he watched over the land below.

In the cool flicker of lightning she saw that his profile was troubled, his eyebrows lowered over his high brow and his mouth pressed thin and grim in worry. 

She pulled the blanket around her shoulders and moved from the bed. She walked behind him silently, wrapped her arms about him and laid her cheek against the rigid line of his shoulder blade. He did not start or seem surprised to feel her touch, but he remained silent for a moment, lost in his own thoughts. 

"I did not mean to wake you," Aragorn said at last, bringing his hands to cover hers where they rested against his abdomen.

"The babe woke me. Like his father, he is restless this night. What troubles you, Estel?" 

"It is nothing, meleth nín. You need your rest." 

"I rest better with you by my side. If it is nothing, why have you let your bed and your wife grow cold?" she asked teasingly, but there was concern in her voice as she placed a warm kiss on his shoulder, felt some of the tension there ease away. "Give me the truth."

"I fear there is something happening. This storm brings with it more than rain, yet I do not know what this threat is, nor what it means."

She looked out the window at the clouds surging over the mountains and felt her own skin draw too tight and confining in the charged atmosphere.

"I do not like it that Faramir and Éowyn ride in such a storm," Aragorn said at last and revealed to her the source of his fretting. 

She was inclined to agree with him, but still she tried to relieve him with lightness. "I know, Aragorn. You always sleep better when those you love are within your protection. But everyone must once or twice in life venture from your reach. Do you not think Éomer capable of hosting his own sister and her husband safely?"

"They have been gone for three days. They will be in the deserted lands now, with no one near to give them shelter. They are not yet in Éomer's protection."

"Faramir and the Rangers are not unaccustomed to hard conditions. They will pass the storm safely," Arwen assured him.

"Perhaps I should have gone with them."

"The messenger said that Éomer's fall was no danger to his life and that he needed only a little help for a few weeks as he recovered. He is Éowyn's brother; she wishes to spend time with him, and Faramir will see to the business of Rohan well enough. There was no need for you to go as well. Gondor is yours to care for."

"I do not forget that. Still, I wish they had waited to begin their journey," Aragorn continued. "The sky has been threatening all week. They will not get far in weather such as this." 

"Will you now take responsibility for the weather, in addition to everything else, Estel?" There was just a note of annoyance in her tone, as his helplessness began to seep into her through their gentle contact.

"I wish they had waited," he simply repeated.

"All the better that they did not wait, for they will be home sooner. Éowyn was anxious to reach her brother, to assure herself he is well. A guard of Gondorians surrounds them. Most of them are Rangers who love Faramir as much as they love you. They will return soon to your keeping, where no harm may befall them." 

She was jesting again now, but her arms tightened about him, and he turned slightly to return the favor, putting _her_ into his keeping, which was indeed, where he desired to have those whom he loved. She stood quietly in his embrace, as the child moved between them. King and Queen looked past the city to the open lands beyond.

They stood there together, sleepless now, and they waited within their safe stone walls for the storm to show them its fury, and worried for those that were abroad.

*~*~*~*~*

In a flash of lightning, Faramir caught his wife's expression and saw that she had fallen deep into grim thoughts. Though the messenger from Rohan had assured her that Éomer would recover fully from the fall from his new stallion, and that it was only a broken leg and a few broken ribs, Faramir understood that Éowyn would not believe it true until she laid eyes upon her brother. They had rested little in the two nights since they had set out from their home; and for her sake, he did not wish to let this storm stop them on the third. 

He could understand more than most what the news had cost her. So many she loved had been lost to her in such a short period of time during the war, and that was a grief he'd been forced to endure as well. The fear that she could suffer more loss was almost more than she could bear, she who had stood firm under the sword of the Nazgul when all others had fled, save one brave hobbit. 

He could offer her no comfort with his own knowledge of loss, and that troubled him. He could only take her to Edoras with due speed, even if doing so meant pushing through this dangerous darkness. 

The horses skittered and bucked and tried to fling their riders from them. He kept an eye on Éowyn, saw that she sat the horse more easily than the rest of them. Of course, he thought. She was the Lady of the Mark.

In any other circumstances, he had little doubt she'd be enjoying this wild ride, and very much looking forward to the trip to Rohan.

Faramir did not like the ride through the unprotected borderlands between Gondor and Rohan. If he were being truthful, he would have admitted that after spending all the years of his life defending his people from Mordor, he was uncomfortable, even in peacetime, with riding too far beyond the borders of Gondor. He worried for his homeland even now, was afraid some trouble would arise and he would not be there to protect the people he was sworn to protect. He was bound to his realm, and not even his fascination with other peoples and races of the world could tempt him from it willingly. 

He never felt quite settled on foreign soil, for too long had he lived in the fear and danger of Gondor being overthrown by darkness. The responsibility of caring for the nation of free men, though rightfully restored to another, still weighed heavily on him. He did not think he would ever be free of it. He was unsure he wanted to be.

He knew Éowyn was always glad for the chance to return to her windswept city on the hill. And while he loved and appreciated the people of Rohan for their spirit and their fierce pride and hospitality, Edoras felt vulnerable to him, he who had always dwelled in the valley, with the stout mountains at his back. In the high city of Rohan, danger could come from all directions. He never rested well there. 

And, he admitted, his reluctance to visit the city did not end with concern for her defenses. Faramir was sometimes envious that Éowyn's love for his homeland did not match her love for her own, though he knew well enough what it was to long for the sight of one's own hills and plains and mountains. 

He already wished for the plains or the forests of Gondor, instead of this wide road through an unfamiliar and dense wood. He could hear nothing above the rushing wind and thunder, not even the hoof falls of his own mount. He was uncomfortable traveling with so many men and horses; he'd spent too many years as a Ranger. 

In a forest, alone and on foot, he could have hidden himself and Éowyn from any enemy, seen or unseen. But royal guards did not travel so lightly, nor so covertly, and in fact their safety depended upon the clear and bold announcement of their strength and force. 

That a Prince and his bride might go forth on foot, alone, was not something one even considered…at least not openly. A wry smile played momentarily at the corner of his mouth as he contemplated what Elessar would have said to such a suggestion. 

Still, as he led his wife and his men on the open road, he felt as if a thousand unfriendly eyes watched from the cover the darkness and the wood beyond his path. And though there had been no sign of danger in the precautions he'd taken, he was still unsettled.

His hand strayed to the hilt of his sword, and remained there. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

Éowyn's thoughts drove themselves into increasingly maddening circles as she wondered without satisfaction of answer how her brother had fallen from his mount. Éomer was far too good a horseman to suffer a simple fall, and yet the messenger had assured her that it was merely an accident and that no grand event had sent her brother from his saddle. 

The rider of Rohan had delivered his message and promptly disappeared after Faramir had looked at her stricken face and quickly announced they would depart the following morning. The messenger refused all refreshment or rest, as well as declining to escort them back to Edoras, as would have been the proper custom.

She wondered if perhaps Éomer was injured more seriously than the messenger had disclosed, wondered if the rider was anxious to return to his King's side. 

The war was over, she thought angrily. It was time for the men of her family to desist with leaving her to mourn them.

She lowered her brow, unsure of why her thoughts were so dark. Éomer would be fine, she told herself, looked hard for hope, and could not understand why it felt so far from her. She stared hard at the path ahead, as if straining to see Rohan and her brother from afar. 

And so it was that directly in her line of vision, in a wash of white lightning, Éowyn saw a lone figure, standing at the edge of the wood, robed in black but for his pale, pale face. In the space of a suspended breath of air, her world tilted, and confusion, shock, and fear rocked her heart madly against her ribs. 

He was just as quickly gone as the sky gave back over to darkness, as if he'd never been there. 

She reeled backwards in surprise with a cry that was stolen by the wind, and her mount felt her lose her seat and nearly topple from the saddle. The horse stopped uncertainly in the path as Faramir rode on, unaware. 

A ghost of her past returned, though it was impossible. She had heard he was dead, had been assured by young Merry and Pippin that it was so. 

Only in her mind, she tried to assure herself as she frantically searched the darkness ahead. Her mind and nothing more, bringing her painful memories of death and war, as she contemplated Éomer's injury. 

She could have perhaps dismissed it simply by her desire to believe it untrue, but in the next flash of harsh light, he was still there, unmoving, and her eyes met his cruel ones, and acceptance shot through her like arrows. The knowledge pierced and ripped at the denial she would have held to, tearing away the sense of relief she'd felt at tidings of his death.

Her eyes shifted when, behind him, many figures came forth from the mists of the wood, as if conjured by him, and then were lost as blackness gave them back their cover. 

Éowyn screamed a warning, but she was frightened--so much more afraid of him now than she'd ever been of him before, though she did not know why--and the sound, high and shrill and full of air, barely registered above the howling of the wind. 

But all the warnings in the world could have sounded, and it would have still been far too late to stop the storm that broke upon them now. 

*~*~*~*~*

To be continued…

Here's the catch…to be continued after May 24th, for I am going on vacation, and this is a little preview/prologue of what is shaping to be a monstrously long story in my mind. There's a possibility I might revise in the week and half I'll have to consider the story, but this is the gist of it. 

If you're interested in seeing it continue, would you mind writing me a little note? In addition, all suggestions/issues/comments/questions are most welcome. 


	2. Gone

Broken Sky

Joanna

*My apologies in the delay of this next chapter. Updates, with the help of the muses and cooperation from the server, will be more regular from here on out.

*Thanks to Nilmandra, who sees stories with eyes that rival Legolas', and Sphinx for helping me find the way to the end of the chapter, and to Mouse for taking the time to read through and encourage me.

****

Chapter Two: Gone

Legolas stood high upon a hill and he surveyed all that his eyes could see, and longed for what they could not. 

The storms of two nights past had seemingly washed the earth clean, and the woodlands and plains sparkled green and the Anduin ran in a bright banner through it all. The sky overhead showed not a hint of threatening cloud, though he could not quite forget the warning on the storm winds. Just beyond the farthest reach of his eyes, he knew the wide silver sea thrashed at the shore, and here his mind could all but touch it. 

He heard light footsteps behind him, but did not turn from his place upon the hill and his view of the world below.

The footsteps paused behind him, and her voice came lightly. "Brother, you stare at the fields as if from them you may glean the secrets of the Valar." 

Legolas half-turned, welcoming with a sweep of his hand the fair she-elf that had pursued him up this long path and to the hill where he sometimes liked to come and stare across the land, towards the hidden sea. 

Aeliné was perhaps the only one in the colony of Ithilien who might have approached him so easily, without worry for the interruption she caused. He supposed that might have something to do with the fact that they had both chased each other through Mirkwood with sticks imagined into daggers as elflings, and had side by side tormented all housed within the royal halls with their mischief. They were close in age; she had been born but three years before him, as they were close in temperament. There had always been understanding and ease between them. 

He found himself glad of his sister's presence among the many elves who had chosen to follow him from his emptying homeland to this strange and beautiful realm. The land itself had been a gift from Aragorn, though Aragorn was quick to say that the presence of the elves was his own pleasure. 

She did not treat him as overlord or Prince, and she did not pester him with grievances. Some days it seemed he never spoke to a soul without some complaint or need, and she was always nearby to assist him or remind him that he was to keep his peace. 

Now, she stood beside him, her clear eyes watching him rather than the view he turned back to, and he felt her persistent and knowing gaze upon him. At last he raised an eyebrow in question and in invitation for her to speak her thoughts, though he knew she did not need nor seek permission for whatever she would say.

"Perhaps it is not the land at all, but the sea that you look to."

He did not like to speak of the sea, but he also did not like the weakness his inability to do so implied, so he smiled tightly, forcing it across his lips. However, when he turned to look at his sister, he found that the expression came more easily. 

She was very dear to him, and if she tread in the dangerous waters of his sea longing, it was the love she bore him that prompted it. And perhaps she had earned the right to speak of trials, for she had known her share of them. Aeliné's story was one that was as sad as the shadow in her eyes. They both carried the scar of a common sorrow, though she bore the full weight of it upon her at all times. 

Weeks before Legolas had departed to play his role in the War of the Ring, Aeliné's husband, and one of Legolas' dearest friends, a noble warrior called Nendil, had been slain by a party of Orcs who'd ventured far into the forests of Mirkwood. 

Legolas had been with Nendil at the end, and had given his word that he would carry his friend's last words to his beloved wife, who awaited his return. His sister's grief had been terrible to behold, and Legolas had been nearly unable to bear his own sadness at his friend's passing, but it was much easier to bear than his sister's mourning. 

For days he watched her drift, aimless and numb, through the palace halls, seeking neither sunlight nor nourishment. She desired the company of none, and eyes that had always sparkled when she saw her youngest brother turned dull and fathomless. She had withdrawn to such a great distance that he could no longer reach her.

Legolas had been almost glad to depart for Rivendell, and for the excuse to escape from her woe, but he had thought of her often during the long journey. He had worried how he would find her when he finally met her again, or if she would have already departed the shores of Middle Earth. He feared mostly the stillness that had lived in her eyes since he had stood before her and ended her hope and her joy, and diminished her light with words that had brought them both to their knees. 

The stillness, even now, was still there in her eyes, and it ran deep.

But there was again love in her when she looked at him, and if she found joy in little else, Legolas knew that being with him was comfort to her. If for no other reason than because he reminded her of her husband, who had been forever at his side from the time they were mere babes. 

"Will you go there soon? To the Havens, and across the sea Legolas? There is no reason why you should have to suffer so. And you do suffer. I see it." 

"Nay, I will not make the journey. There is need of me here. I would not leave Aragorn. I am bound to him in my love for him." 

"But you will pay a price for staying," she observed. "You already have paid it. It has cost you much care and heartache already." 

With that, she turned and studied the horizon curiously for long moments, which prompted Legolas to ask, "and you, my sister? Will you go soon to the West, where the pain of this world is lessened and the great weariness cast away and left behind in the waters?" 

Legolas had always wondered why Aeliné did not depart immediately after Nendil was killed, why she hadn't sought to ease the grief with a reunion or at least a memory, rather than the grim reality of her loss day upon unending day. He had never asked her before now.

"Nay. I do not hear the call of the sea. I do not long for it."

"And how is that? I should dearly like to know."

Her great eyes were full of loss and he found it hard to meet them as she looked steadily at him and said in a final voice, "It is not the time. He waits across the sea, but I can not yet go, for there is much here to be done."

"Do you stay for me? Because I would not have it," Legolas asked, lowering his brow.

"Arrogant fool," was her response to that.

He set his arm around her slim, but strong, shoulders and together they turned back to look out toward the sea. 

Legolas sighed heavily, and his throat ached for her sorrow, and his stomach churned with anger at his inability to do anything to give her ease, and joy, and laughter again. Pointlessly, he struggled for some words of comfort. But he understood, from both seeing his father suffer the loss of his mother and knowing of Elrond's longing for Celebrían, that there was some pain for which there were no words at all nor any measure of time that might ease such grief and wanting. There was only hope of meeting again across the waters, and this she denied herself for some reason unknown to him. 

"There is great bravery in you, fair one," Legolas said at last and they looked ahead and did not look away again until shouts from far below reached their keen ears.

Turning back toward the growing colony, Legolas saw that the guards from the gate were riding quickly toward the road and attempting to flag down a horse charging down it. The animal seemed maddened; his eyes rolled back and he was lathered from a run that looked to have nearly ended him. From one flank, an arrow protruded, caught deep in the muscle. Though the horse's hindquarters were covered in dried blood, he did not seem to feel it at all. And as the animal's dangling reins were secured by a rider, not even Elvish hands could calm him. 

He left Aeliné behind him without a word, taking great leaps down the hillside and calling for his own horse to be brought to him immediately.

For it was Éowyn's horse, and he had returned without her. 

*~*~*

"Here, no, a little higher…just there," Arwen said, and moved Aragorn's hand and pressed it firmly into the curve of her belly. "Can you not feel that?"

Aragorn moved in front of her, keeping one hand tightly against his growing child, with the other resting upon his hip in a superior looking stance. Arwen looked at him as he scowled at her middle in deep concentration, brow furrowed and mouth pressed tight. A slow smile came unbidden to her face at his fierce expression, but she quickly flattened it as at last he glanced back at her. 

Heaving a sign of frustration, he shook his head. "Nay. I cannot feel it."

"Perhaps it is too soon. Do not look so troubled, Aragorn. I am sure in coming months you will have many opportunities to feel him as he gallops inside me. I am fairly certain that I shall give birth to a foal, not a child."

"Then perhaps you were destined for Éomer, who would have gladly taken you before he met his dear wife." Aragorn sighed again as he took his hands from Arwen's middle and instead took her fingers in his as they continued their walk in the gardens. "I am beginning to think that you feel nothing, but enjoy tormenting me by pressing your icy elf-feet against me in the night to awaken me for no reason at all."

He was perhaps sulking just a bit, disappointed to let her have their child all to herself for so long. To lighten him, she stepped closer to him and kissed his cheek. "It is important for a child and his mother to spend time together. You are not invited yet. You have done all that is required of you, for now."

His silver eyes glinted, like a sword flashing in sunlight, every bit as sharp and poignant. "I enjoyed my part in it very much."

"I gathered," Arwen answered and squealed with what sounded as girlish delight when he swept her firmly into his arms and kissed her there, in sunlight streaming like yellow ribbons through the trees. 

"Anytime you have need of my services, Lady, you know where to find me, and if you do not, have the Tower issue a call, and I shall come at a run," he promised. 

He was quite serious, and she threw her head back as he held her there and she laughed. The sound rang off the stone of the buildings surrounding them and swirled high into the air and into windows thrown open to welcome the beautiful day. And everyone within hearing of that musical laugh quickened their step and felt their own mouths turn upwards in smiles of love for the King and Queen below, who had taken leave of the palace to enjoy each other and the afternoon in the garden.

"Aragorn! I must…" Legolas strode quickly into the courtyard and then stopped, for he had come upon King and Queen in a most intimate embrace. He had no time for the usual wit that would have soon followed if he'd discovered them so any other time. "My apologies."

Aragorn jerked back and had the grace to look abashed, but Arwen gave him a rather sly smile, like a cat pleased after a thorough stretch, until she saw his face.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked quickly, seeing Legolas bore some news.

"I come with ill tidings. Lady Éowyn's horse has returned to Ithilien without her and he is injured by arrows. I feel the party has met some opposition."

"Only the one horse returned?" Aragorn asked, and the doubt that had assailed him as he stood at his window and waited for the storm to come upon them struck him again.

"Yes. I have given word at the Tower for a company to be assembled so that we may ride for Édoras to give Faramir aid."

Aragorn gave Arwen's hand a squeeze and looked at her quickly. Before he could say anything, she nodded. "Go. You must."

With a final kiss and a last touch of hand to the shy child, Aragorn turned and followed Legolas from the courtyard, and those in the towers above heard the Queen's laughter no more that day, or for many days hence. 

*~*~*

They rode as they had not since they came to Gondor's aid in the days of darkness. Aragorn and Legolas led the line. The hilt of Aragorn's sword pressed into his palm, and Legolas' bow traveled in his tight grasp. 

They moved fast, and no force could have slowed them, yet a gnawing of thought in the minds of all in pursuit knew that it was likely far too late for aid of any kind. That grim thought only grew as the hours and then the day passed into night. 

Near dawn of the second morning, they learned that they were not mistaken.

As the mists rose and the sky gave over to gray, Legolas motioned Aragorn and the rest of the company to halt, and he stared hard into the deceitful light, as if trying to make out what he saw. At last, the lesser eyes of Aragorn and the men behind saw a lone figure stumbling down the road.

Legolas tightened his fingers about his bow and Aragorn pulled his blade from its sheath as they waited.

At last, the light shifted and aided their vision, and it became apparent that the stranger, though covered in both mud and blood that could not possibly have all belonged to him, wore the colors of Gondor.

"He is one of ours!" Aragorn cried out, and dismounted. With Legolas and several other men behind him, he ran to the faltering soldier.

Upon seeing Elessar, the young man fell to his knees before him and began to sob violently, gasping for air and pressing what looked to be a shattered arm to his ribs as he rocked there and reached with his good hand for Aragorn's boots.

"It is too late! I came for help as soon as I awakened, but it is too late!" Grasping him about the ankle, he choked out to a bewildered Aragorn, "you must kill me! For I have failed you, and Faramir, and the Lady! I have failed them all and such a coward should not live!" 

Aragorn looked at Legolas in alarm, and then slowly kneeled with the soldier, taking his dirty face between both hands and tilting it up so that he could look him in the eye. Tears warmed Aragorn's hands, and made canyons in the mud caked upon the boy's cheeks. He trembled violently beneath Aragorn's touch.

"What has happened?" Aragorn asked urgently, but not unkindly, though the soldier cowed more at these words.

"An ambush in the night. They came from everywhere, devils out of the forest. We were outnumbered, Milord, and they just started _killing_. We tried to defend ourselves but it was too late."

"How many survived?" Legolas asked from above as Aragorn's wide eyes stared through the boy in front of him in shock at such news. 

"I fear none lived save me. I was injured in my sword arm, and hit upon the head and I crawled away, and all went dark for some time. I do not know how long it has been since the attack!" With this, he burst into gasping sobs again and doubled over, again seeking to touch Aragorn's boot. "May all forgive me, but I crawled away when I should have stayed and done my duty of guarding the Lord Faramir and the White Lady until my death. I am a coward and I deserve no mercy! Please, you must kill me for this disservice. I have betrayed your trust!"

With that the guard reared up upon his knees and threw back his head, exposing a pale throat streaked with mud and with blood, as he waited for the King's blade. 

Aragorn reached forward to place his hand on the young man's shoulder and asked, "what is your name?"

Looking bewildered to still be alive, he said tentatively, "Turen, Milord."

"Turen, there is no shame in survival and you may be of great service to us yet. You must show us where you were ambushed and search your memory for any information that may lead us to those who committed this act."

"You are merciful, Milord. I will tell you all I know." 

With Aragorn's help, Turen gained his feet and was quickly tended by the King's healing hands. When his arm and the cut on his temple were bound, he was put upon a horse with another rider and they set off at a more reckless speed than before.

As the sun edged directly overhead, they arrived on what was not a battlefield, but rather a graveyard, and the armor of the fallen men of Gondor glittered in the high sun, and the brightness seemed an obscenity on the bloodied grounds. The fine Rangers and the Royal Guard of Gondor lay broken in the road, their weapons in many cases undrawn and expressions of surprise and agony upon their still faces. The stench of death and rot curled into their nostrils and they could not escape it in this place. Birds of carrion scattered and retreated to lower branches at the arrival of the company, watching keenly. Many unseeing eyes stared back as Legolas and Aragorn both sat motionless upon their mounts, fighting waves of fury and grief and sickness. 

Swallowing hard, Aragorn's eyes scanned the field for signs of life, and for Faramir and Éowyn. 

A vulture swept down and picked at the body of one soldier, and with a shout of rage, Aragorn hurled his sword at the bird, who took flight before the blade drove home into the bloody ground. 

"It was a massacre," the men behind them were saying and looking fearfully into the woods for the enemy. 

__

Murder. Ambush. Assassination. Devilry.

The voices of the soldiers behind Legolas murmured on, and at last, he understood what the winds had been whispering on the night of the storm.

"Riders at the head of the column set up a guard about the perimeter! The rest of us will begin burials. Search for Faramir and Éowyn! We shall not leave this place until we find them. We shall then ride in answer to this atrocity!" Aragorn commanded, and in his raw voice was both venom and grief, barely held in check by his strong will. His hands trembled with it, and he curled them into impotent fists so that his men would not see.

At that moment, as if in answer to his ragged cry, there was a flash of silver at the edge of the wood, and all stilled and turned, holding their breath collectively, as if they feared that to draw air would somehow cause the sight before them to dissipate.

Faramir staggered from the shadows, and from him two broken arrow shafts protruded, one in his chest, the other in his middle. The white tree and stars on the front of his armor were crimson, and in his face there was no color at all. His eyes seemed to look past them all, to some unseen foe. He dragged his sword behind him, for he had not the strength to wield it. He looked as the walking dead, and Aragorn felt new horror drop like a stone in his stomach, for he feared only one thing could bring such a look of defeat to the Steward's face.

Faramir gave an airless sort of cry when he at last he recognized the banners of Gondor, and his strength failed him. He fell upon his knees in a pool of sunlight, head lowered in defeat. For a moment, a strange merge of past and present nearly dazed Aragorn as the memory of the fall of Boromir assaulted him and bled into this new sight of his brother, injured in much the same way. 

Aragorn leapt slain horses and waded through bodies to come to his Steward's side, and Faramir looked up at him, and his eyes had gone blind to all save the horror of whatever had brought his men to their deaths. 

Aragorn took the hand Faramir raised weakly with his own trembling hand, and clutched it tightly to his chest, and Faramir's skin burned with fever even as Aragorn's own eyes burned with tears of deepest fury for this needless slaughter.

"She is gone," Faramir whispered in a broken voice, and seemed to not know what else to say. "She is gone. Gone and I cannot find her."

***

To be continued…

Don't be too put off, but I feel strongly that if someone takes the time to review, I should take the time to respond, so I do this at the end of my chapters. I hope that no one minds too much. 

My many thanks and simultaneous apology to all who reviewed the prologue. The delay was unexpected and unwelcome, and due largely to a very uncooperative Faramir (I showed him by going AROUND him and shooting him with two arrows, you see!), but I have a pretty clear idea of where things will go from here and hope that I have not scared you away with my lagging.

Venyatuima: You don't know how much better it makes me feel when the first review is encouraging! I thank you!

Chloe: I'm honored you came out of lurking for this story. The review really made my day!

Pie: Well, I'm just not going to tell you, though you have had a strong psychic ability with my stories in the past.

RAM: Glad to have your attention, but I imagine even those with the longest spans might be lost by now!

Acacea: Oh yes. Faramir angst abounds. I promise.

Dot: I'll take a stalker like you any day of the week, as long as they leave me such kind reviews everywhere! To answer your question, I learned from reading great stuff and from making a lot of mistakes on my part in trying to get it right…and still making mistakes, by the way. 

Jambaby: MWAHHAHA. Wrings hands. Nope. I'm not answering any of these questions just yet!

Sphinx: I always look for your emails! And anyone can fall off a horse…I've done it about a million times. Bucked off, loose saddle, stumbling horse, tree branch, etc. They are dangerous creatures, are horses.

Daw-the-minstrel: Don't be ashamed. I find this method of waking someone most amusing. But yes, I understand how you would feel so exposed on the prairie. Every time I go out west, I feel like I'll be descended upon in all directions at any minute. Watch out for the poor prairie dogs!

Wellduh: Creepy was what I was going for! I'm glad you're interested in seeing what happened!

Sigil Galen: I think I've made it a little TOO involved already in my head and that's what tied me up, but it's all sorted out now and yes, the long part of the promise is coming!

Estelcontar: Sure that I will finish it? Yes. Sure that I will finish it quickly…well, you be the judge of that!

LegyLuva: Thanks for coming to the dark side with me! I just felt the need to break away from the humor stuff for a bit, but I have a feeling I'll start the other story pretty soon too! I did get your first review on email, and the second, but fanfiction.net didn't post most reviews sent to me (and others I think) for more than a week, though I did receive some in my inbox, which was just as nice!

  
Chapter Three is coming along and should be ready very soon! Please review if you're of a mind to do so!


	3. An Oath Sworn

Broken Sky  
By Joanna

Chapter Three: An Oath Sworn 

Aragorn and Legolas carefully lifted Faramir between them, and carried him deeper into the woods. It was a futile effort to shield the Steward from the aftermath of the battle; Aragorn was quite sure Faramir had already been among his dead, in hopes that even one might live. 

Warm trickles of new blood ran down Aragorn's hand as Faramir's gashes reopened and strained against the embedded arrow shafts, and the horribly sweet stench of a putrid wound hung over them. This scent, with that of the dead men, almost overcame Aragorn, who was already sickened enough by the sight of the massacre that he was fighting the bile rising in his throat. 

Aragorn and Legolas brought him to a small clearing and let Faramir gently to the ground. Aragorn kneeled over Faramir as Legolas went in search of the herbs and bandages Aragorn would need without a word between them. 

Weakly, Faramir resisted Aragorn's care, raising his hand to grip Aragorn's wrist so weakly that Aragorn could barely feel the touch upon him. Aragorn turned to look into Faramir's eyes, sunken deep into a face devoid of color. Again, Aragorn was struck by the old memory of Boromir as they had laid him in the boat and sent him over the falls. 

"I could not--find her. She is gone. We must…must ride to her…"

He was bleeding heavily again and expending strength he could not spare, and Aragorn at last pushed him firmly to the ground and placed a hand on Faramir's fevered forehead to hold him still. "We will find her, Faramir. But first, you must be tended."

"Leave it!" Faramir gasped and tried to twist away and to raise his head. He gave up the fight almost immediately. The simple movement winded him and through wheezing breaths, he demanded, "can you not…hear me? They…took…her!"

"Who, Faramir? Who has taken her?" Aragorn asked, hoping to occupy the Steward's mind long enough to tend his body, as well as to learn any information that might help them. It would not be an easy task for a mind so tormented with frantic worry and memory of the night of the assault.

"The messenger. From Rohan. He was--there. He shot me." 

At last, Faramir fell still, breathing painfully, an ominous gurgling sound coming from within him with every laborious rise and fall of his torn chest. 

Aragorn half-turned back to his men and shouted, and all heard the note of panic in his voice, though he tried to master it. "Send a party of the fastest riders to Gondor. Double the guards at the gates! Give the Queen word that she is to answer no summons unless it be written in my hand or that of Legolas, no matter how urgent the message! Close the gates and allow entry to only those known to Gondor. Ride quickly! We do not yet understand this threat against Gondor, and the Lady Éowyn, but we must take no chances that the Queen might be attacked as well!"

"Why do you--prevent me…from finding--my wife? You must let me go to her." Faramir's voice pitched higher than normal in his fear, and he turned his head quickly to the side, refusing the water that Legolas had returned with and was trying to pour down his throat. 

He was, however, so far beyond the boundaries of his own strength, that not even his worry for his wife could sustain him. Faramir at last fell still and silent. His eyes closed, and Aragorn found himself glad of that, for it was difficult to meet them. He was frightened by what he saw in Faramir's dull gray gaze. 

Aragorn dared not ask how Faramir had survived the long days with none to care for his wounds and none but the dead and his own agony for his wife to keep him company. 

"Turen!" Aragorn called sharply as he tended Faramir, preparing to remove the arrows and bind the wounds. The ministrations roused Faramir from his stupor, but he made no sound. Rather, he bore all stoically, only grimacing slightly when Aragorn caused him particular discomfort.

The young guard had been standing directly behind Aragorn, unknown to the King, with horror his face as he looked upon Faramir's injuries. Turen came forward immediately, looking nearly as pale as Faramir when the smell of the wounds touched him.

"What did the attackers look like? From where did they come?" Legolas interrogated.

"They came from the mists and the trees, Milord," Turen answered nervously, and his throat constricted as he swallowed hard. "Upon foot they walked out of the wood at the moment the storm broke, and none saw them until it was too late. They were clothed in black and most had smeared mud upon their faces so that all that we could see was the whites of their eyes and their bared teeth." He shivered at this and said no more.

"Is there nothing else? Nothing else you can tell us that might help the Lady Éowyn?"

"There was one man, if man he was. I saw him plainly in the moment before I fled. It was he who inspired such fear in me as to make me try for escape. He did not fight but stood and watched over all, and gave the order for none to be spared, not even those who made pleas for their lives." Turen closed his eyes and when he opened them again, they shone with tears that he was not altogether successful in holding back. "He was dressed in black, and his face was cruel and pale. I saw him for only a moment. He was looking at the Lady through it all."

Aragorn's hands faltered upon Faramir and his eyes swung upwards to clash with Legolas' surprised stare. 

"The Lady. Was she hurt?" Legolas asked Turen.

"I do not believe so. They would not face her sword, but they meant to drag her from her horse. She was trying to make her way through the battle to the side of her husband. When she could not find him, she wheeled her horse and I think she meant to ride for help. But before the horse got far, an arrow was sunk into it, and the animal went down. 

"The Lady was thrown hard, and I did not think she would be able to rise, but she regained her own feet quickly. It was too late, for the men were then upon her, though she killed many before they restrained her. I saw no more, for it was then that the pale man emerged from the cover of the trees and started forward, and I crawled away. There was nothing I could have done to save her." 

It was grim news indeed and at his sides, Faramir's agitation increased as the words cut through the pain and the haze of fever. Again, he struggled beneath Aragorn's hands, and his fingers curled into the dirt below him in an agony that had nothing to do with arrows. 

Faramir neared the end of his endurance as Legolas raised him to a sitting position and supported his weight while Aragorn fastened dressings and bandages around his bloodstained chest and abdomen. He would need much care, and mending the damage the arrows had done to chest, lungs, and shoulder, as well as to his belly would be a long process. 

Legolas spoke the inevitable at last to Aragorn, in quiet tones. "We must send him to Gondor for healing. My sister studied the arts of healing with Elrond long ago. I'll have one of the riders send for her when they reach Gondor. He needs much care."

Faramir bowed his head, and weakened in defeat and grief, tears spilled down a face gone blank and hard as stone.

"She is lost," he whispered to Aragorn, who took Faramir's shoulders gently in his grasp and squeezed them in comfort. The Steward sounded as a broken man, and Aragorn suspected that the realization he could not join the search for his wife further bowed him. 

"Nay. She will never be lost so long as you light the way home to her, Faramir." Legolas assured Faramir from above, and put a hand upon his shoulder, adding his reassuring touch to Aragorn's. 

When Aragorn rose slowly before Faramir, the Steward's hollowed, haunted eyes followed his every move, watching almost as if he could not fully comprehend what Aragorn was doing. 

Aragorn drew his sword and dropped upon one knee before it, bowing his head before the blade and Faramir.

"I pledge an oath to you that I will find out what has become of Éowyn, Faramir." 

He wanted desperately to promise more. Even knowing he could not guarantee the promise he wanted to make, he began to do so in the hope that it would give Faramir the courage to survive his wounds. The oath to return her, to return her whole, undamaged in spirit and heart, surged forth. 

But the words broke against his clenched teeth and he said nothing more to Faramir. He could make no such promises, and had he, the Steward would have known better than to put his faith into them. 

Aragorn raised his head, wishing and failing to see his own determination mirrored in Faramir's empty gray eyes as he climbed to his feet and turned back toward the road of the fallen.

To them, he also proclaimed that justice would be done.

"And here I lay my oath before those whose lives were taken in this malicious and cowardly attack, that I will avenge you and bring justice to those whose hands have slain you!"

Aragorn's brow lowered as he pushed his sword back into its sheath. It was supposed to be a time of peace. They had all earned it with much strife and toil. They had fought and bled for peace, they had suffered for it.

Many, many had died for it.

But as he strode back toward the dead, he couldn't deny that there were still enemies left who would give them war, whether they wished it or not.

And for a moment his fury was replaced by a great weariness and a sense of loss of something he'd just begun to appreciate. And all he desired in the world was to return to the afternoon where he had held Arwen and his unborn child in the garden and had dared to enjoy the peace. 

*

A stretcher of sorts was made for Faramir until a wagon could be brought forth from an outlying settlement, and Aragorn sent most of his guard, in protection of Faramir, to the south toward Gondor after the solemn burials were finished. 

The attack had been strategically planned at the farthest point from both cities, so that aid would be long in coming. The road was mostly an untraversed one; only occasional messengers traveling from Rohan to Gondor rode this path. The escape of Éowyn's horse was fortunate, or it might have been many, many more days before they knew anything was amiss. 

Aragorn remained in a state of disbelief that such a well-planned attack had been carried out against his royal guard. 

Faramir's life remained in peril, but there was little else Aragorn could do for him in the wild. Aeliné and the Warden of the Healing Houses would be hard pressed to save him, and more so in the state of mind into which Faramir had fallen. Arwen, he hoped, would be some comfort to him in the days ahead.

It worried Aragorn, perhaps more than the puncture wounds, that Faramir seemed to already mourn Éowyn, and nothing seemed to give him much hope. Aragorn could not blame him, having seen the aftermath of what his attackers were capable of. 

Aragorn found it hard to consider Éowyn's circumstance, for fury and disgust and grief rose up and choked him whenever he thought of the men who had wrought such destruction putting their bloody hands upon the brave young woman. He feared, more than anything, that Éowyn would give them no choice but to hurt her, and that they would delight in doing so.

__

We are coming _Éowyn. _He threw out the thought towards her, and hoped by sheer will and magic he did not possess that she would know they were already riding to her aid.

Aragorn looked long for what signs he could find of the direction the party had taken, and discovered from both the land and Turen, that likely they had fled North, though it was the only help he gleaned from the forest or the young soldier.

"We must ride to Edoras for help," Legolas suggested. "We have sent much of our guard with Faramir and to challenge such a force as the one that descended here will require more men."

Aragorn agreed, partially because Legolas was clearly right, and partially because there was no hint as to exactly where the raiders had retreated and he did not know where else to go. Heavy rain had washed away trails and tracks, and winds had broken branches and limbs, so that there was no sure way of telling what had been disturbed by man and what had been disturbed by nature.

"To Edoras, then," Aragorn sighed, and new dread curled in his stomach at the thought that he must now tell Éomer that his sister had fallen into enemy hands, and that he had no idea who that enemy was, nor where they had gone. 

Anger and remorse rose ever higher in him as they rode hard into Rohan. Anger at himself for not heeding the warning he'd felt, anger for the ordeal that they would not be in time to save Éowyn from, and guilt because he'd neglected to protect those that were his responsibility. 

It was a mighty failure on his part and he could not abide the cost of it.

*

They were admitted into the gates of the windswept city without hesitation, though the surprised looks of the guard told them that visitors from Gondor had not been expected.

When Éomer hurried down the steps of Meduseld, Lothíriel only a stride behind him, Aragorn and Legolas were not surprised to find his leg quite unbroken. 

"You did not fall from your horse?" were Aragorn's first words to the King of Rohan, before those of any greeting or warning.

Even through his confusion at seeing the King of Gondor arrive unheralded at his doorstep, Éomer looked indignant at such a suggestion. "I have never fallen from my horse, Elessar. Greetings, Legolas," he added, before asking, "what manner of news have you?"

"Ill news," Aragorn replied and glanced briefly to Éomer's lovely wife, who was also kin to Faramir.

Seeing the strain upon Aragorn and Legolas' faces, Éomer's brow lowered. "Is it my sister? Is she unwell?"

Aragorn would have liked to ease the thing that had first and most worried his old friend and ally, wished that it was anything else that he must tell Éomer. "It is Éowyn. She was taken captive in an ambush on the road to Rohan."

"Taken in an ambush?" Lothíriel asked in confusion.

Éomer said nothing, but his ruddy skin turned several shades lighter as his eyes moved from Legolas to Aragorn, and then behind them, as if in frantic search of his missing sister.

Legolas quickly added. "A messenger of Rohan arrived to ask both Éowyn and Faramir to come to your aid, for he said you'd been injured in a fall from your horse. The same messenger shot Faramir on the road a few nights later as a force came out of the forest there. It was a massacre, the night of the great storm. Many men of Gondor were slain. Faramir was left for dead and your sister taken. Faramir lives, but his life is in danger." 

At the small gasp of dismay from Lothíriel, a gasp of concern for both Faramir and her husband's sister, Aragorn quietly added, "Faramir is being taken to Arwen for care. He is gravely injured but there are many with fine hands of healing in the city. Of Éowyn, there is no sign, and we shall need your help in finding her."

Éomer staggered back a step, and seemed not to feel the comforting touch Lothíriel lay upon his rigid arm. Denial was the first road he chose. "Nay, she would not be captured. Perhaps she simply rode for help, and is hiding along the--"

Aragorn could not let the false hope take hold of his friend, and interrupted him with the grim truth. "One of the guards saw that she was taken. But they did not harm her, Éomer. They took care not to, from the account of this young soldier."

  
Aragorn gestured behind him to Turen, who had insisted and then begged to ride with the King. Aragorn had thought it wise to let him, simply because the young man would have followed them at the first opportunity out of a need to reclaim his honor.

Éomer was clearly still so stunned by the news, still so shocked, that he could not yet speak. Aragorn saw the lines of his expression changing from confusion to fury, as denial left him, and Éomer's fingers curled into fists at his sides and his eyes narrowed. 

Where that building fury would be directed, not even Éomer seemed to know.

At last, breaking the horrible silence, Lothíriel, the only one of them with an idea of what to do next, said in a tightly worried voice, "King Elessar, Master Legolas, you and your horses are weary. Let our men care for the horses and come inside until we can gather our men and devise a plan of how we will find Éowyn." 

And she quickly turned and started to climb the stairway to the Golden Hall, but not so quickly that Aragorn missed the silver flash of the tears swelling in her eyes.

*

TBC…

*I promise to respond to chapter two reviews in the next chapter. FF.net is sending me some reviews that have not shown up on the website and it will take me a bit to get it all sorted out, and I don't want to leave anyone out! 

Thank you all so much though for your kind and encouraging thoughts. I hope you will continue to enjoy this story (and also, I hope you'll let me know if you do!). 


	4. Falling Darkness

****

*A/N: Remember, I use a combination of book and movie-verse. I like the movie-verse aspect of Éowyn leading the people to Helms Deep, and waiting below during the battle.

****

Chapter Four: Falling Darkness

"Out!" Éomer roared as he stormed past the guards posted at either side of the entrance to the Hall and hit each heavy wooden door with the flat of his hand so that they both sprang back as if battered by an invading army. 

Late afternoon sunlight poured across the stone floor in an elongated rectangle, interrupted only by the ominous shadow of Rohan's King. Servants, guards, and citizens of Edoras who had been going about their business froze, swiveling their heads almost at once to look in confusion at Éomer, who looked and sounded so uncharacteristically enraged.

"Leave us!" Éomer bellowed, the words lashing like a whip, when they stood rooted and watched him as if he'd gone completely mad. 

Legolas watched as the people in the hall at once scattered, like slaves suddenly released from their bonds and afraid of what might befall them if they did not flee while they had the opportunity.

When the Hall emptied, Aragorn, Legolas, and Lothíriel followed Éomer as he strode in the long, slightly bowed strides of a horseman towards his throne, boots slapping stone with purpose. The three of them paused together uncertainly when, rather than ascending the steps to his seat, Éomer suddenly spun on his heel and bore back upon them. His fingers were still curled into his palms, his face still very gray. 

He did not stop until he stood directly before Aragorn, his face mere inches from Elessar's.

"She was under your protection!"

When Aragorn nodded and met his gaze steadily, Éomer continued, voice trembling now, "did you give no thought to her safety before you set her upon the road?"

Legolas watched as Aragorn stood fast before Éomer without defending himself. In Elessar's face was only misery and pity for the King of the Mark.

"How did you let them come to this? Can you not defend your own people?"

"Éomer…" Lothíriel began in reproach, but was interrupted by Legolas, who could not abide such unjust accusations to be hurled at Aragorn, and less so when he knew fully well that each charge drove home in Aragorn's heart, deep as arrows, because Aragorn himself believed them to be true. 

"Your sister and her husband were well protected by a Gondorian royal guard. We have entered a time of peace! Aragorn could not have foreseen this occurrence, he could not have known what would befall the company! One of your own men, a traitor to Rohan and to Gondor, has caused this! He was your own man, Éomer! Your own!" Legolas spoke softly, but his words resonated in the stone hall, carrying across the empty space.

Éomer paused, turned, and looked at Legolas for a long moment, expression unfathomable, caught somewhere between anger and thoughtfulness. Legolas could almost see his thoughts as he mentally listed his men, looking for the one that was missing from his ranks.

Legolas continued, his words easier now. "If we can find who the traitor is and determine where he might have gone, we might have an indication of where she has been taken."

Aragorn's voice came softly a moment later, and he spoke as though Legolas had not interrupted at all. "You are right, Éomer. She was in my protection and I have failed her. And I can only ask her forgiveness for it when we meet again. I do not ask for your forgiveness, for I understand that you cannot give it. 

"But she is not the only loss of the night. Many fine young men met death on that road. Faramir lies near death now. Éowyn is alive. It is something to be grateful for."

"Grateful!" Éomer gasped in disbelief, and the word had an ugly sound as it hung in the air. Fists that had begun to relax tightened again as he rounded on Aragorn. "Grateful that she has fallen into the hands of men who will…do you not know what they shall do to her, Aragorn? Do you n--they will take her and they will defile her!" 

"Stop it!" Lothíriel demanded vehemently as tears rushed down her lovely face, for she was no longer able to check them as she watched her husband's fury and knew that it stemmed from his suffering.

Éomer acted as though he did not hear her, though tears brimmed so high in his eyes that he must have been blinded by them. Reaching for his sword, he began striding toward the door in an uneven path. "We must ride now. There is daylight left still! We must stop this. It is not too late to save her from harm. We have no time to gather the men. Let us go now. The men will follow!"

*

He walked nearly to the door before he realized that none of them followed, but rather simply turned from where they stood and watched him with similar expressions of pity. What he'd known all along surged to the forefront of his thoughts and it was a terrible, terrible knowledge. 

If they rode faster than the wind, they would be too late to save her from such a fate.

"She would have preferred death!" Éomer choked out at last, voice hoarse and breaking. 

With his head lowered, he walked back past the three standing before his throne without looking at any of them. He unsteadily climbed the platform and fell into the chair, as if his legs would no longer hold him. Above him the white horses of Rohan ran across banners of green, the symbol of a house that was collapsing. He did not know if she would survive it. Éowyn had once looked for death because she could find no honor or hope in man, save the one who had now failed her.

And now those that had taken her would take also her own honor and that would be more than she could bear. 

It was far, far more than he could bear.

*

Legolas stood quietly as Éomer shielded his face with his hand, his shoulders shaking slightly. Silence seemed to press all around him, more deafening than any thunder, as he stood in the darkened hall and watched the great soldier of Rohan fall quietly to pieces.

"Leave us," the Queen murmured softly in a moment. 

Aragorn nodded and at once turned to find his way to the guest quarters, where they had stayed both in times of war and in times of peace. Aragorn did not meet his eyes as he went, and Legolas knew that if Aragorn had looked at him, he would have seen fully the responsibility Aragorn carried upon him. 

Legolas would have liked to give Aragorn some words of comfort, would have liked nearly as much to find some comfort for himself. He had been among men for many years now, and he had come to love them for their courage and their nobility and the sacrifices that they might make for something they loved, for something they believed in.

But he had seen both good and bad men and equally, he had come to hate them for their ability to inflict such cruelty and suffering upon fellow men, for their heedless struggles for power and their greed and their damning pride and need for revenge. 

Legolas followed Aragorn after a moment of hesitation, feeling frustrated and disappointed in men for the first time in several years, reminded of dark days and dark men though it was a lesson he would have been happy to never repeat. 

He glanced back once to see that Lothíriel had risen to stand at her husband's side, her dark head shining as she bent it to rest upon her husband's golden one. Her arms encircled his shoulders and she held tightly to him, almost as if she would take the pain from him and into herself if she could do so.

The fierce warrior of moments before vanished. Éomer reached for his wife, pulled her to him, and held her tenderly while he shed his first tears for his sister's bitter fate. 

*

Arwen had been upon the walls of the city for many days now, watching the North road. Not even her keen eyes could see anything that might aid her in easing her worry. 

She was not alone, though she would have preferred it. Always there were guards near her; Aragorn's most trusted and most skilled men had been sent back by order of the King. Arwen wished her husband had not left his best to her, for she was safe in the city and she feared that he might have need of their swords. There would be no persuading them to go though, when the King had given them to high duty of guarding wife and heir to his throne.

The city seemed tense, as if it held its collective breath, waiting for some unknown release after words of warning had come back from the North. Though the Tower Guard watched day and night for danger, none had come. In fact, the road leading to Minas Tirith had seemed more deserted than usual, and Arwen found herself feeling desperate for news from any source, be it friend or enemy. 

She found herself increasingly annoyed at Aragorn's message; irritation springing from the state of anxiety she had lived in, keeping her up late at night and at the window, looking across the empty plains, with only the squirming unborn to keep her company. Aragorn had sent word only that there had been trouble on the road and messengers were not to be trusted. She understood the warning was sent as soon as possible when Aragorn had perceived some danger, but she felt certain that he must know what her mind would make of the gaps in the sketchy details he had provided. 

The returning riders were very close mouthed about what had happened, skillfully avoiding her questions with vague explanations and shifting eyes. But she saw the pinched look on their faces, heard the way their muted voices trailed off when she turned a corner, and watched from the walls as they went into houses in the city and later came out looking shaken. The windows of the houses seemed darker and more empty after they had left them with their ill tidings. 

And she felt it in her own heart, doubt and grief, and though she tried to hold to hope, she was beginning to know that something terrible had transpired. Something more terrible than Aragorn had told her, something more terrible than the guards would tell her.

How many had been injured on the road? Was Aragorn in danger? What had become of Faramir and Éowyn and all who had gone with them? Was there some trouble in Rohan? Should she send more men to aid her husband? 

The questions went as unanswered on this morning as they had in all the past days and Arwen walked the walls and she waited until she thought she would go mad with the waiting. 

And then, one week after her husband had left her, and as an angry looking sun sank below a front of thunderheads, a banner of Gondor broke from the wooded road far away and danced across the armor of those riding at the head of a long line of soldiers.

She watched alone for a moment as the column of horsemen followed Aragorn's standard, for none of the others could yet see them. A horse and rider broke away from the group and headed South, and she thought it was likely that someone was riding to alert the household of Faramir and Éowyn's return. 

She suddenly wheeled away from the wall and when her guards looked at her in surprise, she gave them a relieved smile, her first in days. 

"They are home."

*

As Legolas stood at his window and waited for the creeping darkness to chase the last light into the West, a serving woman with tears running rapidly down ruddy cheeks entered his quarters bearing a tray laden with food that he had no need of. 

Keeping an apprehensive eye on him, she went about setting out the meal. Sobs began wracking her shoulders as she worked, and not even her fear of being alone with a warrior elf, a terror shared by all the house servants, it seemed to Legolas, could prevent her from her grief.

Legolas, careful not to make any quick movements, watched sympathetically, without his usual irritation that not even volunteering to die with the men of Rohan had eased their sort of morbid curiosity and superstitious fear about elfkind.

"Why do you cry?" Legolas asked softly after a moment, turning to look at the woman.

The woman, who was standing as to keep one eye on Legolas without appearing to do so, started and nearly missed the goblet into which she had been pouring ale. 

"Mi---Milord?" She sniffled.

"Why do you cry? Are you so afraid of me?" Legolas persisted.

"Nay, Milord. It is not you. It is Lady Éowyn. They are saying…they are saying that she has been taken and that she will never be found again." The words came faster now, and so did the tears. "They are saying that the King is mad with grief and that not even the Queen can comfort him. They say that there will be war with Gondor, that it was Elessar's fault and that King Éomer shall demand justice from him if his sister is harmed. They say our King has not left his throne in hours, that he sits and he stares at the doors before him as if waiting for her."

Legolas walked cautiously over to the woman, but she was crying too hard to bother herself into being alarmed of him. Taking the cup of ale and sipping it to be polite, he looked more closely at her, seeing that she believed all of the absurd rumors that were wont to swirl through human halls at such a time.

"You know Lady Éowyn?" he asked her first.

"Yes, Milord. I know her well. I was with her when she led us to Helms Deep. I was with her in the caverns. She stood alone with her sword before us all, and even when we heard them breaking through your lines above. We began taking the mountain passage, but she stood fast and would have protected us from them until her death. And yet she is gentle too, Milord. Gentle and of a loving heart, and she has only just found such happiness with Prince Faramir."

"You know her as shieldmaiden, yet you do not think she will return?" Legolas chastened, raising an eyebrow. 

As she thought about it, the woman's tears slowed. "It is just that no one knows where she has been taken. And the King is not in the state to find her, from what folks say…"

"Ah, that is it, isn't it? What _they_ say. Men who say more generally know less, and you would be well served to remember that in the time to come. Your King is not mad, merely grieved. There will be no war with Gondor. And Middle Earth is not large enough to hide the White Lady from those who love her."

The woman looked fully into his eyes for the first time, and her tears stopped. "You are very kind, Milord, to ease my mind." 

"The Lady Éowyn is fortunate to have such devotion. I am sure she will find much comfort in it when she returns," Legolas said at last, keeping his voice confident.

"I must go, or the others shall think you have slain me. You see, they say…" she began, then heard herself and stopped, as Legolas raised his brows. She smiled sheepishly through drying tears and the strands of fair hair that plastered to her damp cheeks. Taking a deep breath as she lifted the empty tray, she smiled at Legolas. "I am beginning to understand what you mean when you say those who talk more, know less. Still, I shall tell them that elves, in fact, are very kind after all."

"Yes, we rarely slay women until after sunset," Legolas said quietly, and watched as the woman's eyes darted nervously at the darkening sky before she caught herself and smiled good-naturedly.

She even laughed a little, and he was glad to hear the sound of it.

Legolas smiled after her, but his heart was not in it, and after she closed to door after herself, he walked back toward the window and waited until the land turned black.

*

Silver light streamed into the halls of Meduseld, which were deserted as night fell on Edoras. Even Legolas' light footsteps seemed to echo to the wooden rafters overhead as he walked swiftly down the hallway.

He'd seen no one other than the serving woman after he and Aragorn parted ways to retire to their respective rooms. He now came to Aragorn's quarters and rapped once upon the door, pushing it open when Aragorn invited entry.

He found Aragorn standing much as he himself had the entire night, looking out his window at moonlit plains and mountains. 

Aragorn did not turn around, but said, "you are dressed for travel."

Legolas was a bit taken aback until he saw his own reflection in the windowpane, then met Aragorn's eyes in the glass.

"It will take several days to identify the missing messenger, assemble a force, and perhaps more to plan a search area. I am going for Gimli. We may need his axe before the end."

"Aye," Aragorn agreed, almost as if he were distracted. 

"The dwarf would howl like a dying warg if he were not part of a rescue that he could later boast about, and largely exaggerate his part in." Legolas said it lightly, not because he felt light but because he wished to see his friend lifted from his grim thoughts.

Aragorn's expression did not change in the glass. "Aye," he said in the same disinterested way.

"And you know that Gimli did just wed Galadriel and I meant to bring them a gift for their betrothal," Legolas continued, fairly convinced that Aragorn had not heard anything he'd said since he came through the door.

At this Aragorn turned from the window and looked at Legolas like he'd gone daft. 

Legolas lifted one shoulder in a delicate manner and said in explanation, "I thought you were not listening."

"I imagine I shall cease doing so very soon if you continue with this nonsense." 

Legolas smiled, and Aragorn's mouth at least lifted at the corners.

In a moment, Aragorn asked, "you are taking the guard with you to the caves?"

Legolas shook his head. "I shall travel alone under cover of night. The men need their rest. It will be faster. And safer."

Aragorn opened his mouth to tell the elf that he could not possibly go alone, and then realized that he would do the same if the choice were his. A large force had not saved Faramir and Éowyn. Still, with Éowyn's disappearance and so many deaths weighing on him, Aragorn did not think he could stand to have Legolas' injury upon his shoulders. And, he acknowledged, he would very much need the elf in the time to come.

"It was not your fault, Aragorn," Legolas interrupted, reading his thoughts.

"Who else?" Aragorn asked quietly, not denying that Legolas had correctly interpreted his hesitation. "I had the power to send a thousand men on the road with them."

"It was the act of madmen, Aragorn. You can not control the destiny of all those you care for. There is nothing that could have prevented this from unfolding as it did."

"You felt a warning on the storm as well," Aragorn murmured, and it was not question but known fact.

"Yes," Legolas admitted.

"Should we not have ridden then?"

"We still would not have arrived in time, Aragorn. You know this. It was beyond you and I."

Aragorn said nothing for some time.

Taking a new direction, Aragorn murmured quietly, "I stand here and I find reason to hope that Faramir burns with fever."

"So that he is not in his right mind to think of her?" Legolas guessed.

Aragorn nodded. "I cannot fathom having Arwen taken from me in violence. And even less could I live with waiting while others searched for her. To think that I had failed to protect her…"

"It was madmen, Aragorn" Legolas repeated firmly. "If you take responsibility for madmen, you will quickly become one."

That was wisdom, and Aragorn nodded slowly, and looked at Legolas for a long moment. Finally, he said, "we must find her."

"We will," Legolas said with sureness. 

"We must find her and we must return her to Faramir unbroken."

Legolas nodded, but the words of assurance did not come so easily this time, so he did not give them.

"Go," Aragorn said at last, seeing that Legolas was reluctant to leave him to his worry and yet anxious to begin his journey. "You will need to ride across the plain before the moon climbs all the way over the mountains and cheats your secrecy."

"I will return with the dwarf in a few days."

Aragorn nodded, and looked at his friend for a moment before he came forward. He placed his hand on Legolas' shoulder, and Legolas reached up to clasp his as well. Tightly.

"Keep your eyes open, mellon nin," Aragorn advised. 

"I am an elf, Aragorn," Legolas replied, feigning lightness again as he turned to go. "I sleep with my eyes open."

*

To be continued…

Thanks to reviewers of both chapters 2 and 3…sorry I got behind last time and confused with what reviews went where. I think it's all sorted out now, so here goes…

****

Elmo: I accidentally skipped your review the first time, and I'd never do that! Thanks as always for your comments! I'm glad to see you are using your literature lessons to good use! I do plan to use this sort of structure throughout the story, in terms of having three separate threads that converge and drift apart, and converge again.

****

Sphinx: Ah, where would I be without your fun emails and insightful comments, and flattering words. You know how much I appreciate it! Oh, and I'm updating fast because I feel so bad about how long this story sat unattended. Afraid if I don't crank it out, it'll all leave me again! And please…your Aragorn is as wonderful as any.

****

Jastaelf: So glad that you liked Aeline…it is a bit intimidating to add another character in with the rest, but she was important to Legolas, and to this story, so here she is! And yes…you are right on all fronts…expect dark, sad, angsty…I am writing in defiance of Dragons or Ribbons at the moment, with no idea what caused the shift!

****

Nilmandra: Could NOT do this story without you, and I hope I remember to tell you that at least once a chapter. I'm glad you liked the changes, but I never would have seen where they should be without your help!

****

Gwyn: I'm sensing perhaps a fan of Aragorn angst here? Or am I wrong? I do hope I won't disappoint you. Eomer's new for me, so glad you liked him. I'm surprised by how much I'm enjoying writing him really. And not a morning person? Me neither.

****

Klaw: It means so much to me that you took the time to review. It really does make the writing so much more rewarding…and it's pretty rewarding in itself so that should say something.

****

Dot: I missed you when I wasn't writing anything! All will be revealed as far as Legolas' sister, and I'm feeling sorry for them all too. I found myself writing this chapter with a huge lump in my throat thinking, "why? Why am I doing this?" But I do have a purpose…they will all have to endure much before they understand it though. Oh! And you left me another long and lovely review! Yes, Arwen and Aeline will have a serious task in mending Faramir, physically and mentally. This is my first attempt to write Eomer really, so I'm glad that you enjoyed the scene in Edoras. I thought it was great all the indignant reviews that Eomer would NEVER fall off a horse (which I agree) so it was fun to give him a little of that edge for a moment to relieve some tension. Turen, though he originally was going to have a small part and be sent home, has grown on me to the point where he'll continue to be involved with the story. And we know the shieldmaiden wouldn't have been taken down without taking a few with her, so I felt it important to include that bit in there. 

****

Lamiel: Thanks for reviewing! This is actually the first sort of suspense piece I've tried, but I'm enjoying it so far, though I find it takes much more patience than I have to actually not just scream out who dun it, where, and with what weapon. Oh! How kind! You left me another review! Yes, I will be delving in and out of the characters as the story continues, though now I'm interested in moving things along just now. Ack. It will almost be frightening to examine closely what they are all feeling at times, but I wanted a challenge…

****

Aemilia Rose: Eek! Sorry. I didn't do much to help these guys out in this chapter, I know. It'll be a bit before things settle down! And yes, Faramir has been brought to his knees…not an easy thing for me to do to him.

****

Lome: Thanks! I'm so glad you're enjoying the relationships especially, which is something I work hard on. And I am a bit obsessed with writing this story now, so it will continue, definitely!

****

Say la Vie: So very honored that you like my Arwen. I enjoy her very much too, though I feel the books did not give us enough of an appreciation for her character, and while the movies try to do so, I still want more of her. 

****

Lotrmatrixstarwarsfan: So glad that I've got you interested, hope I can keep you that way. Yes, poor Faramir! You've my wonderful beta readers to thank for the suspense, because they keep telling me to keep everyone in the dark longer, and I must say, I get dark satisfaction out of doing so!

****

Kaz: Wow! I'm touched and honored to be becoming one of your favorites. Of course, as you say, with many people not updating, it may be a beggars can't be choosers kind of thing, huh? But I'll take it! I do enjoy writing Aragorn and Arwen…those scenes always seem to write themselves. The darkness is a bit harder to do, but the effort is rewarding, I think, as its so different from other things I've done.

****

LegyLuva: NEVER apologize for "bombarding" me with reviews. No such thing as too many, and I really, really appreciate that you were determined to get one through. So sweet of you, really. Always knew you were the Kig.

****

Hobbes: I thank you! Hope you enjoy the new stuff.

****

Lirenel: Mwahaha! I cannot answer your questions because I'm enjoying all these questions and concerns! I'm also enjoying kind people like you who review! Thanks for that! Oh yes, and the messenger, total ruse, but it cracked me up that everyone refused to believe Eomer would fall off his horse! 

****

Gemstone: You are too kind. I think one of the highest compliments is the one where I've stayed true to characters, so your review means a lot! And incoherent reviews are as much fun as coherent ones, so don't worry about it!

****

Nilbrethiliel: yes I'm back! But walking on the dark side with this one, as you realized! Please, please don't fall out of your chair! I'd hate for you to become injured and unable to leave me delightful reviews! LOL! I do like your motto: Let em suffer! Oh, but I will, I will….(maniacal laughter fades away slowly to be replaced by clicking keys)

****

Alaskantiger: I'm glad that you found the story because it meant such a nice review for me! I'm plotting the next chapter even as I write this to you!

****

EowynthePyro: Glad you're liking it! Updates will hopefully come regularly as I'm really enjoying the writing of it, and really anxious to get to where I'm going in the tale.

****

Venyatuima: Glad you're back! I was afraid I'd scared everyone away with my long hiatus from this story. I got done with the prologue, looked at it for a while then thought, "well, now what?" But I've got it sorted out, finally! I do love writing Aragorn and Arwen by the way, so glad you're enjoying those bits.

****

Estelcontar: That's odd about the Aragorn search thing. Perhaps I put Legolas first and that's why? I'll have to rearrange them! Of course, it's about all of them, so I can't decide if I should list the story under "all" or not. Those tend to get lost so quickly! Anyway, thanks for the warning, sorry for making you anxious…but then again, it's supposed to, I think.

I think this is everyone and that it is my other story where it's telling me I have ten more reviews than have shown up! Still, if you have reviewed and don't see a comment to you here, it's likely because I didn't see the review, and not because I'm purposefully not responding!

Thanks to all! Hope you'll come back for chapter five!

Joanna


	5. In Safe Keeping

****

Chapter Five: In Safe Keeping

Arwen stood before the mighty gates of the city and waited impatiently for the riders returning from the road to Rohan to meet her. The Tower Guard had insisted upon her staying within the protection of the walls while a party went forth to escort them into the city. 

All precautions must be taken in the face of the new threat, they had told her, but she knew there was no danger in the returning party. She had seen clearly the faces of her husband's men with eyes more keen than those on watch. Though Aragorn had told her to trust no hand but his own, there were faces in that column she knew would do no harm to her or the King. 

She had not seen her husband in the line, nor Legolas, nor any they had ridden in protection of.

It was this thought that began growing in her mind and coiling in her chest as soon as she turned from the high wall and began to make her way to meet the party at the entrance to the city. It was this thought that had given purposeful speed to her step, though she knew the company was far from the gates and she need not hasten to beat them there.

"Open the gates!" Came a shout from the Tower at last and she moved to stand in the middle of the way. Gimli's gates swung outward. The sunset stained the mithril and iron crimson and the bloody light washed over her as the escort led the way back into the city. 

She saw grief and horror in Aragorn's men who had returned from the road to Rohan. They all rode posted about a slow-moving wagon, as if they all guarded what it carried. 

Barmor, Aragorn's greatest captain, and one whom Arwen would have rather had stayed at Aragorn's side, had returned. Upon seeing him, her heart suspended in her chest for an extended moment before surging against her ribs again and again in a relentless tempo. 

Why had Barmor returned without Aragorn? Barmor rode to the fore when he saw her, and dismounted, his eyes falling upon her with regret and then avoiding her altogether. 

Her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch that had nothing to do with the child.

She heard the cry from her lips as if from some great distance behind her and hurried forward, clutching the fabric of her skirt in a hand that had taken to trembling. Her steps carried her closer to the wagon, but the men still surrounded it, standing between her and whatever burden it carried.

"Wait, my lady! " Barmor warned, stepping forward and putting himself directly in her path. Arwen charged on, but he did not give way, and she slammed into him hard. Gentle hands steadied her, then gripped her upper arms in an attempt to restrain her.

"Aragorn!" She managed to gasp out, though she felt as if her throat was closing, as if she were drowning in her dread and terror. 

"It is not the King, my lady, he is well! He has ridden to Edoras," Barmor assured her, and when Arwen's knees dipped in relief, he steadied her.

"Who then?" she whispered, looking at the wagon.

"You are in a delicate condition, Lady, and you look very pale. I am sworn to protect you and your babe. Let us go to the citadel and there I will tell you what has come to pass."

Panic was still bitter in her throat as she struggled against the captain's hands and wrenched herself free. Short of putting a harder hold upon her, which Barmor would not, there was little else he might do. She had need of proving to herself that Barmor spoke the truth, need of knowing what horrible knowledge they all shared. She trusted Barmor to tell her what had happened, but she needed confirmation more immediate. She ran the rest of the way to the wagon, pushing through the horses. None prevented her this time.

As she peered down into the bed, in an instant she would later regret and reflect upon with shame, what was undeniably relief swept through her. For indeed, it was not Aragorn they had brought back, but Faramir. She did not know him to be alive or dead, she did not know the fate of any of the others, but it was not her husband lying so still in the wagon, and she could have wept with the joy of it, even in the face of what met her. 

"Faramir," she called, despair raw in her voice as she stretched a hand toward him. She desperately wanted to put her touch upon his cold, still face, but was unable to reach him. 

"Faramir," she cried again, a bit louder, but he lay as still as death, looking a shadow of the man she had seen little more than a week before. Weight had fallen from him, and even the gray skin upon his face seemed to hang about bones risen too close to the surface.

He did not respond to her voice. 

Barmor appeared at her side. "I am sorry, Lady Arwen." 

"Does he live?" she asked, so very afraid of the answer.

"His body lives," was the reply and it startled her gaze from the bandages across Faramir's now sunken chest, which at last rose and fell laboriously as he wheezed. 

Arwen met Barmor's eyes. She realized that Faramir must be taken to the healers at once, but there were too many inquiries she was afraid to make fighting for attention in her mind at the moment. The terrible question trembled on her lips before she voiced it. "What has become of Aragorn?" Other questions tumbled from her in rapid succession. "Legolas? Éowyn? And Faramir's men? Where are they? Why did Aragorn not send word of what happened?" 

"King Elessar sent riders immediately upon finding that there was treachery afoot, without giving any other message, for he thought only of your safety and that of his people. He asked his messengers to say little in the hopes he could provide you with a more satisfactory explanation once he spoke to Lord Faramir. We still know little. It is a long story, and I have not the answers to all the riddles, though I will tell you all I know. 

"For now, we must get Lord Faramir to the House of Healing. We have cared for him as well as we might, but we have traveled hard and he is very ill and very weak. He has suffered two arrow wounds, one to the chest and one to his abdomen. His escort was ambushed on the road to Rohan. Lady Éowyn has been taken as a captive by those responsible. The messenger of Rohan betrayed his king and my own, and sent all but Lord Faramir and one young soldier to their deaths. 

"Of Lady Éowyn, there is no sign, but King Elessar and Legolas have proceeded to Edoras to bring the tidings to King Éomer and to assemble a force to pursue the attackers. We buried the dead in the wood where they gave their lives in protection of Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn."

Arwen nodded numbly, her mind desperately snatching at the thoughts swirling through it. She gave a hollow command to the driver of the wagon to take Faramir at once to the Warden of the Healing Houses. Barmor stationed himself at her side, as the riders filed in, bowing as they passed their Queen. Arwen looked through them, hand pressed to her mouth, and tried very hard to master the tears that threatened her eyes. She knew she needed to present them with a picture of confidence and control, for they had lost theirs. 

They all still looked to be shocked and grieved, for many had served Faramir before the King had returned, and all loved him. She imagined that many had lost friends among the fallen. 

She ached for them, she ached for Faramir, and Éowyn, who she could not bear to think of, alone and afraid in enemy hands, knowing not what had become of all those she had left on the road, nor what would become of her. And for Aragorn, who would feel the weight of this upon his shoulders. And she ached with her own grief for all the fine sons of Gondor, for her chosen people. It was a day more bitter than any since she had parted from her father. 

The next question that came to her was a hard one, but she sought reassurance from the thought behind it. "You are certain that Éowyn still lives?"

"It seems that great care was taken not to harm her, even as she fought gallantly. It seems perhaps that she alone was to be spared from the first," Barmor responded quietly, and whatever small reassurance she found in this was torn away in the teeth of a thousand new fears for her dear friend.

It was nearly too much to absorb, too much horror to divide her worry and dark thoughts into, and each moment seemed to bring fresher realizations of danger and death. 

Éowyn lost to them, all those young soldiers fallen, Faramir lying near death, and Aragorn and Legolas in pursuit of a treacherous enemy with little regard for life or title. She thought of Aragorn's unease and worry for the party on the night of the storms, and she knew very well that he would return with Éowyn, or not at all.

"My husband did not ask that you accompany him on his quest?" Arwen asked, wishing above the others that Barmor's blade backed her husband and Legolas.

"The King asked that I protect his Steward on his journey home, my lady. And that I protect you from whatever dangers we may face here whilst he is away. We do not know this enemy or how deep this treachery may stir. It is my honor to do the King's bidding, Queen Evenstar. I am at your service." 

Barmor took a knee before her, bowing low. Arwen touched his shoulder gently, bidding him to rise, and giving him a tremulous smile of gratitude when he stood again, but it never reached her eyes and soon faded from her mouth.

"You said of Faramir that his body still lives. What did you mean, Barmor? Has darkness returned? Has he fallen to shadow?" Arwen asked softly as she began walking up the hill after the wagon. Barmor fell into step a half-pace behind her, hand upon his sword hilt.

"He still draws breath, though he is fevered and there seems to be a poison in him that keeps the wounds angry. He is weak, and I do not know that his body can recover, though he holds to life, for he was strong and in his prime. I do not speak of the old shadow. Lord Faramir stands upon the thinnest blade between life and death, and though none of the men that tended his wounds expected him to live through the journey, he still breathes."

"Has he awakened? Has he spoken?"

"He has spoken in fever dreams of the loss of his wife. I believe he holds to life only to know the fate of Éowyn. Still, I fear that might not be enough if she is not soon returned. I fear he has lost all desire to live without her."

Arwen faltered in mid-stride, and Barmor's hand touched her elbow, for he thought she had stumbled. She understood in an instant, and the knowledge made the task of healing Faramir ominous. For the despair that had gripped her just moments ago in the time it took her to cross to the wagon and find that her husband was not dead within it had rocked her down to her bones. Her knees were still weak with it. What would be the purpose of drawing breath in a world without the one she loved more than all worlds? 

As if reading her thoughts, Barmor spoke again. "There is hope, my lady. Every hope in the world that she will be returned, for King Elessar and Legolas will see it through. Lord Faramir must be made to hold to that hope, even if the days grow long without her."

Arwen nodded. She understood her purpose with these words from the Captain, understood why Aragorn had sent Faramir home to Gondor rather than on to Edoras with him. Her task would have little to do with healing what arrows and swords inflicted upon flesh, but rather with mending what they could not reach. 

As for the arrow wounds, she had not the healing hands of her father, but there was one who did. "I will need the skill of Aeliné, sister of Legolas, Barmor. Have an escort hasten her to Minas Tirith at once."

"Legolas ordered that we send riders for her upon our return to Gondor. Lady Aeliné will be here before the dawn." 

Arwen nodded and said no more as she followed the wagon bearing Faramir's body high into the city he had always loved. But if Éowyn was not returned, Arwen knew well enough that it would matter not to Faramir if the Tower of Ecthelion toppled and the House of the Tree and the Seven Stars burned to ash. 

*

Legolas had traveled this road before, under a sun that had been deceptively hopeful. When, around him the voices of women, children, and men rang off the mountains. Then he had been watchful, every sense keyed for coming danger, and he had ridden far ahead of the rest because he could not hear the warning in the earth with the voice of Rohan in his ears.

It was not a path that held good memories. But the brave people had made their stand in the fortress, and even when it had fallen, they had not. 

Now, the trail was quiet but for the wailing of the wind through the rocks all about him, and while he was on his guard, he did not sense danger near. 

He reined in by a great mountain lake, watching and listening to the water slap at the shore in a musical cadence that eased his terrible worry for both Faramir and Éowyn. It was some time later that he realized the silver moonlight had shifted and glittered in a wide wake upon the surface. He had lost himself for too long in the spell of the water. Shaking himself, as if from a deep and disarming rest, he turned Arod away from the water and traveled deeper into the mountains.

The moon had passed high overhead and was beginning to fall into dawn when he spotted the orange gleam of campfire dancing high upon the side of a massive boulder loosed from a mountain long ago. 

He slowed his mount, guiding the horse carefully over the ground so that there would be no ringing of hoof upon stone. The light came from within a circle of fallen boulders, the faces of them ringed in red firelight. Legolas meant to have a look to be certain that those who sheltered in that circle posed no threat, and then be on his way again.

But just as he made the decision that it was time to go forth on foot, a scream that might rip open the very night sounded, raw and full of horror. It went on and on, and he was hard put to ignore the impulse to cover his ears with both hands. The sound rent at his sensitive hearing like talons and he thought it would never cease. It was a woman's scream, and it continued until it was cut off by a harsh warning. 

A shadow moved across the rock, thrown there by a man both wide and tall, judging from the darkness cast upon the stone. 

Another high-pitched shriek slashed through his eardrum, this one of fury and fight. Legolas was so surprised by it that he nearly slipped as he dismounted. The voice sounded somewhat familiar, or if not the voice, than perhaps the fury in it. Could he have had the fortune to come upon Éowyn here, in the wild? Just a few days after her capture? Perhaps he could have her back to her brother before he sat down to his breakfast. Optimism lifted his heart high into his throat. 

"Ye'll bring wolves or wild men down upon us! Stop it! Do ye hear me! Stop it!" 

Legolas' ears, bruised as they were with the screeches of the woman, heard well enough the sound of the flat of a hand connecting with flesh. 

Quivering with equal parts hope and bloodlust for the ones who had taken the lives of many, and for the one who now put their hands upon Éowyn, Legolas gripped his bow and started forward, keeping low and navigating the treacherous terrain with great speed and utter silence. 

At last he came to the ring of stone, and stealthily slipped along the side of one rock so that he might peer into the circle and gauge his enemy. He sought the man first. He was raging again, demanding to be told what the woman had seen to set her to screaming, but the woman was silent. 

One with the stone, he pressed himself forward just a bit more, and saw her.

His heart plummeted in disappointment, leaving his throat and dropping far down into his stomach. He could not see the woman's face, for her back was to him, but her hair was dark, tangled, and hewn about her bent shoulders. It was not Éowyn.

The man, who was in fact every bit as large as his shadow had suggested, stood over her with his fist clenched and still demanding to be told what she had seen. She showed some of Éowyn's defiance in the tilt of her head and her determined silence. When he swung his fist at her, though, she threw her arms up to cover her face and half-rolled away, staggering to her feet and cowering where she stood. 

The man, thrown off balance when his fist did not find her face, lost his feet and stumbled sideways. The girl spun about as if for flight.

Legolas was startled when, instead of running as he thought she was about to do, she looked directly into his eyes, almost as if she'd expected him to be watching from just where he stood, lost in the shadows to even the keenest of eyes.

He had an impression of an unhealthy face with eyes too large, cheeks too hollow, and skin too pale, but little else as he gathered his legs beneath him and leapt upon the top of the rock. He strung an arrow as soon as his feet met stone and fixed it, and his eyes, upon his target.

The man did not notice him right away, though Legolas could feel the girl's stare. Confused at her reaction, the man followed her gaze and then took a step backwards when he saw Legolas.

"An elf," he whispered and on the heels of that a curse or prayer, Legolas could tell not which. In his voice and his face was all the superstitious terror of Rohan. For the second time that night, Legolas did not mind the fear he inspired in this people, until the man pulled his face into a snarl and turned on the girl again. "Ye've called the elves down on us now, you witch, have you?" 

When he advanced one step toward the girl, Legolas released the arrow, and it plowed into the hard ground just where the man's toes had been ready to fall. The man yelped and leapt back as Legolas readied another arrow and informed him, "you will not lay your hands upon her again." 

"What business is it of yours what I do with her? She's mine, and expensive she was."

"The dark days are over. She is not bound to you at any price. All slaves were freed by Elessar, High King. His word is law. Do you challenge him?"

"She's bound enough until she's paid her debts," the man growled back, but stepped back a little further when Legolas' stare grew sharper. "She wishes to come with me. Tell him," the man added with a threat in his voice as he looked at the girl.

And girl she was, still more child than woman, Legolas realized as he shifted his eyes to her for a moment. She looked wretched, clothed in filthy garments, and dirt covered all parts of her, making it hard to tell what marks would wash away and what marks would not.

"We will part ways tonight." The girl said softly, sureness in her voice, though it was trembling. Bringing a small hand to cover the rising welt upon her cheek, she glanced back at the man fearfully, then turned her eyes back to Legolas. There were other bruises on her face, and on arms so thin that Legolas could have encircled with his thumb and forefinger.

The man looked as if he might move toward her again, but when Legolas leveled his arrow to a higher target than the man's toes, he swallowed hard and reconsidered. Though the threat stopped his feet, it did not stop his tongue.

"Ye'll die out here alone, little wench, without me! The wolves will have ye, scrawny meal though you be!"

"She will come with me," Legolas said quietly, and did not show his frustration at the realization that he would have to take the girl into his keeping until they reached the fortress. There was need of haste and he had no time to take a sickly child into his charge. The girl did not look as if she had the strength to sit upon a horse at all, much less cover rough terrain with speed.

But her eyes were on him, and there was such an air of sorrow and fear about her that he could not have turned her away. His thoughts returned to Éowyn for a moment, and he hoped that she would be so fortunate as to be found by friendly hands, even before he, Aragorn, and her brother could reach her.

"There is evil in her heart and her wicked mind is touched by darkness!" The man warned as Legolas motioned for the girl to walk away from the fire and towards him, keeping the tip of his arrow trained. "She'll cut your throat in your sleep!"

"If you try to follow us, or if I ever see you near her again, you shall have cause to worry for your own neck," Legolas advised as the girl passed below him. He leapt down from the rock, meeting the girl's eyes briefly when she turned to look at him. 

In the dark depths of them, he could read nothing.

*

To be continued...

Ah, my apologies for the delay. I got a little stuck, but got by with some help from my friends. Thanks to Nilmandra and Sphinx for that, though do not hold them responsible for any oversights on my part.

Please have faith in me! New girl is in no way going to become Mary Sue, I give you my solemn pledge.

I think you'll find things begin moving quickly from here and onward.

To reviewers of chapter 4:

Jastaelf: Thank you, mellon nin. The poor elf. Since I've fallen for him completely (in or _out_ of Pirate gear), I fear things could get tricky for him before the end.

Gwyn: LOL. See above. I have decided that Legolas is definitely working at stealing my heart from Aragorn. They both hold equal shares at the moment, but yes, thinks will be getting interesting for the elf rather soon.

Dot: Yes, I sort of went back and forth about making Éomer quite so angry, but decided his worry for his sister might just push him into a panic of sorts. I got the idea of the sort of fear and wonder of elves from the movie actually, when they show close-ups of the people of Rohan's timid disbelief when the elves march in to help them. I bent it a little bit toward awe inspired fear. 

Lirenel: I have struggled with whether to do Éowyn's point of view or not. In the end, it occurs to me that none of the other characters know what has become of her, so it doesn't seem fair that the reader does. I think it's more effective to wait. However, we will learn from other places along the way, what has happened as they pursue her.

Rohan_nitpick: Thanks for reviewing. I do have some exciting plans for the story, which begin now. I'm very glad you enjoy the character interactions. That's important to me!

Kaz: Oh, I didn't think that you meant it as beggars can be choosers, that was just what I said it was like, more than likely! But thanks for all that praise. It made my day. I feel very rewarded that you like my Legolas...I'm starting to have a real passion for writing him.

Eowynthepyro: Glad you enjoyed the first scene. I was worried of how it would go over. I hope I've explained Arwen's lack of knowledge of what happened in this chapter a bit better. Oh, and as for Éowyn....we will not be hearing from her for a bit (see the reply to Lirenel) but we will hear of her. 

Gemstone: lol! Gimli would be so hurt, but I'm sure he's glad that you're awaiting his arrival! It's coming soon...next chapter you'll see everyone's favorite dwarf!

Estelcontar: Yep, I fixed it! Fanfiction.net can't beat me (except they can). As for the release of tension, I found myself needing it too! I get so keyed up with the writing of this story, I'm not at all sure it's good for me.

Aemilia Rose: I know, it depresses me too. Probably the darkest thing I've written in quite some time, if not ever. But hang with me, and you will know what happens!

Sphinx: As always, both your thoughtful reviews, as well as your thoughtful comments are most appreciated! I promise both Aragorn and Legolas angst in this story...heck, I think everyone will have their fair share before it's through. And so much for writing fast...this one took me forever to turn out.

Jambaby: Oh, much, much longer! Indefinitely! No, I'll throw you guys a bone or two pretty soon. As in the next chapter!

LegyLuva: Glad you're enjoying the story because I'm enjoying your reviews. Oh, and I've got the first couple of pages of the sequel to Sneezes and Swordfights begun. Tell Michelle Frodo to keep an eye out, for that story will be popping up soon!

Wellduh: Yes, I'm a dark, perverse sort of person that way. Okay, okay, I'm writing, I'm writing.

Lamiel: Okay, you so don't need my "i'm an elf I sleep with my eyes open comment" because you've got the glow in the dark elf thing going for you. I do try to keep the little flashes of description and imagery around, just because I think they do lend some reality to the scene. And yes, the elf is in for quite an adventure. And when might we have some more elf adventure from you, speaking of? 

AnneWithane: My heart is so glad to see the return of you! YAY! And I know that soon you'll have chapters and chapters flowing again of your lovely elf prose!

Venyatuima: The tension actually gets to me too, and I KNOW what's going to happen. I find myself getting done with a chapter and finding my teeth clenched so tightly that my jaw aches. And I'll gladly keep writing! Will work for reviews!

Thanks everyone. Again, hopefully the muse will stay perched on my shoulder (like Cotton's parrot in Pirates of the Caribbean, which I highly recommend...the elf looks good as a pirate and isn't half bad with a sword, but Johnny Depp should have handed over a bow and arrow, and then it would have been interesting.) 

Coming soon: Chapter Six in which unexpected visitors arrive at Edoras, and Legolas arrives at the Glittering Caves, with his new charge in tow.


	6. Many Reunions

Chapter Six: Many Reunions

*Author's Note: Trust me on the female OC for a bit, okay? Unless you're violently opposed to any original female character, in which case, just run away! :)

Thanks to Nilmandra for not letting me have a character "hurl her eyes" at the ground. Hee! Yikes! (and for all the other things!) And to Liz, who I missed so much and who needs a hat just like Orlando's. And to Sphinx, who reads even the non-Aragorn parts, though it's not in her nature. 

***

Aragorn had not expected to sleep, but he did, though fitfully. 

He was not sure what awakened him from his dozing, but he stirred, suddenly alert. The moon had fallen low and hung in the corner of his window, just above the black pitch and roll of the mountain peaks raging across his horizon like an angry sea.

Something seemed changed within the halls of Meduseld, and he did not yet know what. There had been no great disturbance to wake him, nor was there one now. When he turned and raised his head, no line of light from the hallway lifted his door. It seemed all was quiet.

He attempted, for a while, to lay his head back down and to return to the rest that he knew he needed. It was the last promise of safety he would have in sleep for some time, and he intended to appreciate it. 

He tried to dismiss his unease as the lack of cold elf-feet pressing against him at regular intervals to bid him feel for an unborn and shy child. Or perhaps the unease was only longing when he touched the coolness of the pillow beside him and wished instead to sink his fingers into Arwen's hair and let it spill back upon the pillow where silver threads of moonlight would play in the dark silk. 

He knew sleep was futile, and his now watchful eyes fixed upon the high ceiling of the room. His mind swam restlessly through all that had occurred, all that might still occur. His mind kept returning to Éowyn, more than anything else, and the dark thoughts of what had become of her drove all rest from him. In all these thoughts he saw a cold, still maiden as had greeted him when he had first met her, only no amount of warmth might thaw her this time.

At last he threw back the blankets and stood, meaning to pace the halls as he did in his own towers when Arwen rested peacefully and he could not distract himself in other ways. He left boots and weapons behind him, and crossed the room. Already he felt better to be walking, to give his body movement to match his mind's. The door was in shadow, and with his eyes unaccustomed to the lack of moonlight, he struggled for a moment to find the bolt. 

At last he swung the door inward and ventured out, and immediately was struck about the knees. With a surprised shout that seemed to ring through all of Edoras, he fell face first toward the stone floor. 

There was a twin cry of surprise, echoing his, and as Aragorn's forehead glanced off the floor it occurred to him that he had not been struck so much as he had tripped over whoever had been crouching before his door. 

It soon thereafter occurred to him that those that skulked before doors in the middle of the night likely did not have honorable intentions. 

Thus, Aragorn moved quickly, regretting his lack of weapon, despite the fact that had he worn it he likely would have presently been impaled upon it. Through the throbbing heaviness in his skull that came with his meeting with Meduseld's foundations, he twisted, and his arm sliced through the darkness and tightly grasped the throat of the skulker.

"Identify yourself!" Aragorn demanded, and the sound of it seemed to break something behind his eyes, and whatever it was let fly against the inside of his forehead like a million needle arrows. 

"Spare me, King Elessar! It is I, Turen!" 

The boy swallowed convulsively under Aragorn's hand and with a sort of growl, Aragorn released the boy at once. 

"What purpose have you, Turen, creeping outside my doorway?" Aragorn inquired of the darker shape outlined in the blackened doorway.

"I was not creeping at all. I was sleeping, my lord."

"The question still stands," Aragorn snapped impatiently, for his aching head put him in a bad temper. That, and he saw that in the direction of the great hall that firelight flickered on the walls. Someone was coming, no doubt roused by his cry, and he did not care to be discovered thusly, tangled with this young soldier in a heap upon the floor. At least without knowing the reason why he was so.

"I was guarding you, my lord. I intend to give you my sword in protection."

"So far it does not go well," Aragorn pointed out and when awkward silence followed, he persisted. "Guarding me from what?" His voice was a bit gentler, the ache in his head not so.

"King Éomer. There are those who say that he wishes to slay you!" Turen whispered, and a stray beam of moonlight glinted off the white of a wild eye.

Despite everything, Aragorn could have laughed at the absurdity of this, and was hard put to master the urge in the face of such sincere devotion. There was a still a tremble of it in his voice as he spoke, though he guessed Turen would not note it.

"The King does not intend on slaying me, Turen. Those who say that he does speak as fools."

Aragorn gave Turen's shoulder a pat and then pushed himself backwards, still unsteady after his unexpected tumble, and pulled himself to his feet with the help of a suit of armor that had seen former service in the house of Rohan's king. 

"Even if King Éomer does not wish to kill you, my lord...there is still the traitor. The messenger whose word the lady trusted to ride upon has not been found. He could be in our company now."

There was more truth in this, but Aragorn did not say so. "The King has surrounded us and himself with his most loyal guard. You need not worry, Turen. Go find your bed and rest while you may."

"Please, my lord, keep me at your side! I will not fail you again! I shall prove myself worthy of your service and of Gondor!" Turen pleaded and as a guard turned the corner with a torch, Aragorn saw that the boy's eyes were filled high with tears that reflected the distant fire.

If the boy insisted upon serving him, Aragorn supposed that keeping him under close watch might be the best way to keep Turen, bandaged head and splinted arm included, alive...and to keep he himself from further injury. The afterthought occurred to him as he gingerly pressed the swelling on the left side of his temple. 

"Very well then. You shall stay close to me," Aragorn sighed at last, not entirely sure of what his promise might mean for his own safety. 

"King Elessar, is all well?" the guard called as he drew upon the two in the hallway, holding his torch aloft and looking surprised to see barefoot king standing over the boy sprawled in his threshold. 

"Yes, all is well. I am sorry if my call roused you or called you from your duty."

"Nay, my lord. King Éomer has bid that you come. Visitors from the Shire have just arrived and they have brought news of interest to all."

"The Shire?" Aragorn asked in confusion, even as he left Turen to find his own feet. On the heels of the guard, Aragorn went to the great hall.

*

The girl was apprehensive about Arod, though she issued no complaint when Legolas stopped before the stallion. Arod, being a generous creature, lowered his head and blinked solemnly, as if to make himself look as unthreatening as possible. She stood back and stared in dismay at the animal as Legolas went forward and draped his arm about his horse's gray neck, turning back to study her.

"I owe you my gratitude, my lord," she said at last.

Her voice was soft, so soft that Legolas imagined that most would have much trouble hearing her at all. He found himself hard put to believe that the scream that his ears still ached with had come from this small creature. She was the picture of meekness now, standing with her shoulders bowed and her head lowered. She would not meet his eyes.

"You owe me nothing," Legolas assured her.

She was afraid of him, he knew, and trying hard not to reveal it.

"My name is Legolas, little one. Will you not give me your name in return?"

"I am Fora," she murmured, and at last raised her eyes to his, a question in them that Legolas knew she would never ask of him, though she burned with it. Had she traded one cruel master for another? 

"You do not need to fear me. Nor do you have to fear any other while I am here," Legolas assured her. When she glanced uncertainly back toward the circle of stone, he added, "he will not come after us for he is not brave enough to face one who can return his blows."

"May he rot," she whispered, and quickly cast her gaze to the ground below.

"We should be on our way," he suggested at last, and hoped that distance from the man behind them might make her feel more secure. This suggestion, though, seemed to bring new terror forth, and she took a huge stop backwards and looked at Arod again as if he might spit flame.

"You fear horses," Legolas guessed, patting his mount's neck affectionately and giving the girl a smile.

"I have never been on a horse," she confirmed. 

"Then, it is time for new things. Come, give him a pat." Legolas motioned her forward, and thought it very odd indeed that this child should be in the home of the horses and yet have no familiarity with them. 

She hesitated for only a moment at his bidding, but then approached, eyes forever darting from elf to beast, with a seemingly equal lack of confidence in both. 

Feet planted far away from Arod's hooves, she leaned forward and at Legolas' bidding stroked the smooth neck once, letting her hand fall immediately. Arod swung his head at the girl, and though she started, she held her ground as the stallion gave her a gentle nudge with his nose, smelling the front of her dirty dress.

"You see, you are friends now," Legolas told her, though she looked as if she might fall over from the fright of having the horse nuzzle her. He would have let her have more time to grow accustomed to the horse, if there was not need for haste. "Let us ride."

"There is no saddle," she murmured in surprise, looking even more daunted.

"There is no need. Arod will not let you fall and neither shall I," Legolas promised and without further comment reached for the girl. 

When his hands fell about her waist, she stiffened as though bracing for some hurt, and he heard the small, strangled intake of air through her nose, though still she did not fight or protest. 

"I only mean to put you on his back, little one." It pained him, more than he thought it would, to have her fear him so, and he wondered what treatment she'd known to cause such mistrust. Still, he kept his voice light and swung her upon the animal, leaping easily behind her. 

She took up fistfuls of Arod's mane and drove her knees into his withers, holding on for her young life. Legolas smiled at her grip, glad that she could not see that he did so, and he eased an arm about her to hold her steady. It was a fortunate thing, for as Arod took his first step, she lurched sideways. The horse stopped immediately and Legolas shifted her back into place and put a tighter hold about her. Even had he asked Arod to go faster, he imagined the horse would have protested. 

It intrigued him that the animal had never minded darting from underneath Gimli, yet took care with this child. All thoughts of a quick ride to the dwarf's caves abandoned, Legolas sighed and they went forth at a stately walk.

For a while they rode, and only the sound of Arod's hooves and the girl's uneven breathing could be heard. She sat with her back very straight, though Legolas could tell by the nodding of her head that she must have been tired. Her legs must have grown weary of clutching at Arod's sides as well, but she did not relax her hold, nor did her hands free the handfuls of mane she clutched.

At last though, she shifted uncomfortably, glancing over her shoulder and parting her lips as if to ask a question, but then seemingly changing her mind.

"What is it?" Legolas asked softly.

"Might--might I ask where we are going L-Lord Legolas?" 

He smiled at this title and the awkwardness of it upon her tongue and told her, "you may call me Legolas. And we are going to the Glittering Caves to visit a dwarf."

"I have never met a dwarf," Fora murmured.

"Well, you shall have a grand new experience to speak of, unequal to any other," Legolas said dryly and thought back to his first meetings with dwarves, and the one dwarf in particular. 

"I have never met an elf before either," she told him.

"I would imagine you have not," Legolas smiled. "How do you find us?"

"I find you kind, as men are not."

"Not all men are unkind, Fora," he said, calling her by name for the first time. 

She was silent then but Legolas pushed her a bit, hoping that by answering her question, she might do the same for him. "And you, little one. Do you have a mother and father, or any family to which you might be returned?"

"No," she said in the same flat, emotionless voice. A voice much older than her body. "My mother is dead."

"My mother passed from the world too, when I was very young," Legolas told her, trying to give her comfort.

"Do you miss her?" 

"Yes," Legolas said. "I miss her, but she loves me still as I love her. She loves me always, as I am sure your mother does."

Again she did not answer, so Legolas asked, "Do you miss your mother, little one?"

"I do not know," she answered. Legolas did not quite know what to say to this, and they both fell quiet again.

*

Aragorn felt a sort of quiet gladness and relief when he entered the King's hall and saw Merry and Pippin sitting at one of the tables nearest the throne, cheeks puffed out with whatever treat the Queen, who sat before them, had provided.

Aragorn got a very clear view of said treat when Pippin spotted him and called, "look Merry, it's Aragorn!" around the food. Crumbs of cake flew across the table, but neither he nor Merry paid them any mind as they hurried across the floor, hobbit feet smacking loudly on stone. 

If they forgot the niceties of title and propriety, then so did Aragorn as he fell to a knee and took them both into his arms in an embrace. Through all that had transpired in days past, he still felt joy in seeing them, and their sturdy faces were good for his low spirits.

"How is it that you have come to be here?" Aragorn questioned, sitting back on his heels when he had set Merry and Pippin to rights. 

"They have news of my sister, perhaps, and the ones who took her," Éomer's voice startled Aragorn, for he had not seen him standing in the shadows of the hall. "They have seen dark men on the borders of their lands."

He came forward now as Aragorn rose. Éomer stopped just before him. Their last words had been bitter ones, words of accusation and contempt. 

Merry and Pippin stood silently below them, seeming to sense the tension in both Kings at this meeting, as if a question waited for an answer between the two of them.

"I must ask for your forgiveness, Aragorn," Éomer said at last, and there was an apology in his eyes, a regret that burned momentarily brighter than his sorrow.

"Nay, you must not. I will beg yours when the time is right though." Aragorn protested. "She was in my care. She was my responsibility. About that much you were right, though I know you would never have said it but under duress."

Éomer shook his head in denial. "I know that you would have never endangered her. I knew it as I said the words, even in duress."

"I might have sent more men," Aragorn reminded him.

"And then buried 200 instead of 50, and still my sister would have been taken in the end."

Aragorn sighed deeply and met Éomer's eyes, saying nothing more.

"Did any see the party? Any who might confirm that this is the same men the hobbits have seen? Or Faramir perhaps...did he speak about Éowyn's captors? Or perhaps the boy who survived?"

Aragorn sighed, and glanced over his shoulder, seeing a slim figure dart backwards into the darkness. "You may ask him that yourself, if you wish. He is just there, hiding in the hallway. He is protecting me from you, because he has heard that you wish to slay me. He intends to meet you in battle if you try." Aragorn pointed to the knot on his forehead, as if that explained it well enough. 

Turen came forth, with the good grace to flush, though it faded quickly to gray as he contemplated facing Éomer in a battle for his King. 

Éomer's eyebrow lifted and a small smile came to his mouth as he studied the boy. "Nay, boy, I do not intend to slay your King yet. I have need of his sword. But such loyalty from you is to be praised."

"Yes, it is," Aragorn said and looked poignantly at the King of the Mark. "Éomer, you have pledged your sword many times for the protection of what I love. I do the same here before you now."

"Tell him, Merry. Tell Aragorn what you saw," Pippin urged his friend as the uneasiness surrounding Gondor's and Rohan's Kings abated, to be replaced by the easiness of old friends and brothers in arms. 

Merry opened his mouth, but Pippin could not restrain himself, and so the words fell from him excitedly. "Many nights past as Merry and I were riding the borders of the Shire, a party of men traveling in the darkness could be seen in the Old Forest. Not even the moon seemed to touch them with light. They were ill-favored and well armed, and they rode at least 100 strong. They rode South, in your direction and we feared what mischief they might bring you, so we set out after them."

Aragorn did not even take the time to marvel at the bravery of these hobbits, who had pursued a party of 100 without thought in order to give what aid or warning they could, who had traveled so many miles on the chance that their assistance might be needed. He had long since learned they were creatures as surprising as they were simple.

Éomer turned to Turen. "Does this not sound as the party that met you on the road?" He then looked at Aragorn. "Did you not find any of their dead?"

"Either they did not lose a man or they took their dead with them," Aragorn said. "There were none but Gondorians left on the road. Turen, is this the same force?"

Turen had turned paler again. Unable to find his voice, he nodded instead. 

"How does one hide such a force on the borders of the Shire?" Aragorn mused.

Merry looked indignant at this. "We would have seen them before now if that was the way of it. They did not come from the Shire, they only passed near it. We met them again on the road as they returned, but gave thanks that they did not discover our presence. We sought shelter in a ravine as they rode by. Before we left we posted guards about our lands with orders to beware of these men but to watch where they traveled. Samwise is doing that now, and watching over Rosie and his children. If there is news of these men and where they have gone, it is in the Shire."

"Did you not see Éowyn when they passed you again on their return North?" Éomer asked anxiously, voice clipped and angry again, and Aragorn guessed that he had already told Merry and Pippin what had become of his sister, Faramir, and the royal Gondorian guard.

"No, King Éomer, we did not see her. We saw nothing, for we hid ourselves well when they approached. Dark men they seemed, and not the sort to go around a person in their path when they might ride through him, if you understand my meaning," Merry murmured. 

Aragorn met Éomer's eyes and understanding passed between them.

"We ride for the Shire at first light," Aragorn said and glanced at a faded black sky though one of the high windows of the hall. He glanced back at Pippin. "I must call for your sword again, knight of Gondor."

"You have it," Pippin murmured and Merry nodded.

Éomer looked more hopeful than he had since Aragorn's arrival in the city. "I will rouse the men. What of Legolas and Gimli?"

"They will follow as they may. They will understand our need for haste," Aragorn said, and regretted very much that he would not have Legolas' bow nor his company for the leagues ahead, but it could not be helped. They could not spare an hour in relieving Éowyn of her fear.

***

"You do not like this place," Fora guessed as they came down from the hills and into the valley of Helms Deep.

"Why do you say that?" Legolas murmured, a little taken aback. It was true that too many memories of a night that would not end and a sunrise none had expected to see had him in their teeth.

"You are tense and somber. Arod knows it too. Look at his ears. He is uncertain of your mood and of his next step."

She was perceptive, Legolas thought as he watched Arod's small, fine ears flick back and forth as he went forward. Even as one who did not know elves or horses, she was acutely aware of both of them. Now she looked over the land, awash in moonlight, and was silent for many moments.

"Many died here," she murmured at last, when Legolas did not speak. "Good and evil alike fell."

"You have heard of the battle?" Legolas asked her, though he was certain she must have. She was old enough to have heard tales of war. She had lived through it. "Did you seek shelter in the fortress when Isengard fell upon Rohan?"

"Battle?" she repeated, confusion in her voice.

"The Battle for Helms Deep, little one, during the War of the Ring. Surely you have heard of that fight?"

"Surely," she echoed, but there was still uncertainty in her tone.

***

Despite the fact that the top of Legolas' head missed the roof of the cavern by at least a foot, he felt the need to stand with his head lowered toward his shoulders, as if the entire weight of the mountains was pressing down from above. It was a most peculiar posture for him to find himself in, as well as any who looked upon him. 

In fact, he seemed to be mimicking in stance the girl who stood near his elbow, eyes glittering in the firelight as she eyed everything around her with unease. Their differences in coloring, cleanliness, gender, and height seemed to melt away, and both looked rather unsettlingly similar in their distaste of the caves. 

Legolas heard Gimli's grumbling far before the dwarf reached the chambers where they waited. 

*

"Could you not have the decency to call upon old friends at a reasonable hour, pointy-ear? Just because you have no need of sleep does not mean the rest of us should be held to your strange habits." Gimli muttered this much in greeting as he entered the cavern that his guard led him back to, after having shaken him from sleep with news the elf had arrived. 

There was little need for clarification. Dwarves had no need of wasting time on speech. What other elf might visit them in their caves but Legolas, after all? Knowing this, what need had any dwarf of speaking the longer name? 

"It is good to see you too, my friend," Legolas grinned, and Gimli stood with dignity as the elf looked over his attire of a long (by Dwarven standards) nightdress. "I hardly recognize you without your axe in hand."

"That can be remedied, Master-elf," Gimli growled. He was not one who looked kindly upon being awakened for any but the most dire circumstance. And frankly, not even then did it please him. 

"Your welcome leaves much to be desired," Legolas informed him, coming forward and falling upon one knee before Gimli, so that he might clasp his shoulder in greeting. "You shall scare my companion."

For the first time, Gimli turned his attention to the girl who had skittered behind Legolas when he entered the cavern. She looked as if she wished to melt against the stone behind her.

"Do ye not think the lassie is a little tender of age for you, lad?" Gimli asked, raising his eyebrows and looking to Legolas, who gave him a look that did not speak of amusement.

Legolas gave what might have passed for a snort, in elf terms. To Gimli it sounded more as a delicate sneeze. 

As Gimli's watched Legolas, he saw in the elf's fathomless eyes something stirring that had little to do with joy of old greetings, and the elf's bright smile faded away. There was an alertness and a determination and what Gimli knew immediately to be wrath in him. His friend had come with a purpose.

"You have ill news," Gimli guessed.

"I have ill news," Legolas confirmed.

***

To Be Continued...

Thanks to you guys, as always. I'm sitting in my 90 degree apartment because the air conditioning has been broken for two days, and I keep thinking that Middle Earth has GOT to be cooler than this. If I try very hard, maybe I can imagine myself there...

Anyway:

Jastaelf: Do you treat real men in your life the same way? The ones you really like you put through more hell? I ask because it seems that I do. Hmm. Perhaps why I'm currently single? Yes, perhaps. 

Dot: Howdy! I bet you're nice and cool in Ireland. I've really got to move there. Got a spare room for a couple of days until my air conditioner is back up again? Hey, Pirates will be worth the wait by the way! Just think...you'll get to keep it long after it's gone from theaters here!

Klaw: Glad to know it, cool name, and hope you liked this new chapter!

Sphinx: So, I'm sensing that you'd like to see some more Aragorn perhaps? LOL. He's going to be around, I promise. You know I can't write a story without him!

See pain and see me: Hmm. Boromir will be a bit hard to work in, I think, but you just never know when inspiration will strike! But there will be plenty of hot elf, no worries there!

RAM: I will do that! Thanks!

Lamiel: Oh ye of little faith in me! I'm so hurt that you think I'd make her a love interest. Shame on you! How's my Gimli? All two lines, anyway. I kept thinking of your glow in the dark moment, I really did. It inspired me. Okay...so you'd better post simultaneously, because you didn't beat me!

Anne W: Yes, but why is the rum gone? Hee. I could go through the whole movie, but I won't. Hmm...I've been busy writing. What about YOU? 

IvoryNovelist: Hi there old friend! Wow! You're so sweet! And good for my ego! Hope all is well with you! Glad you're enjoying this dark piece, but I will begin the sequel to Sneezes, another lighthearted one, very soon!

ShadowWarrior: Your wish is my command! I will try very hard to post once a week (if not more often if I can do it and not kill me or my beta readers, who have their work cut out for them as it is!) Thanks so much for reviewing!

Moonlightwave: We'll get some news of Eowyn very soon...but I'm glad to know that you're interested and care about what's become of her! 

LegyLuva: Never apologize for showing interest in my writing! It makes my day and makes me want to write that much more! So, please, don't stop! I think the very latest I would post first chapter of the sequel will be August 5th...and I'll likely post before that!

Estelcontar: You need that margarita when you read it! I'll have the sequel to Sneezes in a few weeks, so you can pick up that one after these dark angsty chapters and have absolutely no tension at all, except worrying who will kill the other first, elf or man?

Kimmaree: Oh no! You've been sucked into the vortex of the dangerous work-in-process. Actually, I usually update very regularly unless I hit a snag, and then I revise a story for a few days, and then get on with it! Thanks for coming along!

Kaz: I told this to someone else; the Pirates thing, totally worth whatever wait you've got! It'll be just as delightful in a few weeks! Tell Orli (both of them) hello! As for Eowyn...you'll get news of her, but won't hear her POV. I didn't think it was fair for the readers to get to know of her when those who love her have no idea where she went. Thought it'd be more effective to keep it a little close to the chest for a bit. 

That's it for now folks. Thanks as always, hoped you enjoyed this chapter, and do let me know if you did...if I survive the night without my airconditioning, I shall see you next time! I resemble a greasy-haired viggo at this point.


	7. In A Dark Place

****

Chapter Seven: In a Dark Place

*As always, my thanks to my beta readers, Liz, Nilmandra, and Sphinx. You are my heroes.

By some tacit agreement between them, neither Legolas nor Gimli mentioned the purpose of Legolas' errand again as they escorted Fora to the guest chambers of the caverns. The girl bore it all with stoic acceptance, but her eyes frequently returned to Legolas for reassurance as they navigated the close, low hallways of the caverns. 

"Rest now. No harm will befall you here. You are amongst friends," Legolas promised her as they came to the room that was to be hers. When she gave a doubtful look to Gimli, the dwarf even attempted a comforting smile and Legolas appreciated the effort. "We shall speak again in the morning, and see you into the hands of those who can care for you."

When Fora only stared, Legolas persisted. "Is there anything you require, little one? Food and drink is being brought to you, as well as water for washing, but is there anything else I can do?"

She hesitated, looking to Gimli and then back to Legolas for permission. At his nod of encouragement, she finally asked, "will you not tell me where you will take me in the morning?" 

"To the fortress, where I will ask the guards to see you safely to Edoras. There you will be given care and shelter." 

Her eyes grew wide in bewilderment and then she gained the look of one deeply betrayed.

"What troubles you, Fora?" Legolas asked softly.

"I do not wish to go to Edoras, my lord," Fora said with surprising vehemence. "They will not welcome me there."

Legolas exchanged a look with Gimli and narrowed his eyes in confusion. 

"Why would you say such a thing?" Gimli asked. "The King and Queen would not turn a child away." 

There was another long hesitation. "I do not wish to beg shelter there again." 

"Again?" Gimli and Legolas spoke the question together, and both were decidedly disconcerted to have done so.

"My mother and I were turned from the city when I was a child," Fora said and her eyes glittered in the firelight with an old anger for one so young. 

"Why were you turned away?" Legolas asked, but the girl obtained the look of a balking mule prepared to endure whatever punishment resulted from refusing to budge.

"It is no matter," Legolas sighed at last and saw her thin shoulders drop a bit with relief when she understood he would not force the information from her. "The Queen will give you shelter, on this I give my word. However, now is not the time for worry, it is the time for rest. We will speak again in the morning."

"You'll be guarded, lassie, by two of the finest dwarves in the cavern. None will bother you," Gimli added. 

"We will not be far," Legolas assured her as he and Gimli backed from the room.

"Well laddie," said Gimli as they turned away from the girl's quarters. "It seems you've much to tell me, and knowing the way you love to stretch a simple word into a verse, you had better start now."

*

He was surrounded by an impenetrable mist. Soft and gray it seemed to him though there was no touch to indicate softness, no light to give color to his surroundings. He knew that above him was something, something worthy of remembrance, of his thought. Whenever he thought to rise above the numbness, it seemed that some physical current rushed about him and held him from the surface of what he'd left above. 

He had questions, but his mind could not fully wrap around those questions, could not quite shape them into words that could be given a voice. He tried to move his lips against the sounds forming there, and knew not if he did so. Something was there, just beyond stretching fingertips, something he did not wish to face but felt a terrible urgency to meet. Yet he was suspended in this place, neither sinking nor rising. 

He felt as if he put up some great struggle and was still mired, for he had no power over his limbs, over even his eyelids. He knew, all the while, that there was some comfort to be had in his ignorance, even as his mind and body warred. 

But he was rising, slowly, and determined now that he should have the breath of knowledge. There were voices where before there had been only silence. There was the clear, soft voices of women murmuring about him and he was lying in a bed, not upon the jolting wagon he'd found himself upon when last he was conscious. It was the first time he'd been fully aware of himself for some time, and longer still since he'd been aware of others about him.

There was pain. Yes. So much so that he found himself ready to give back over to the darkness before he'd come fully into light. In the gray place he had felt nothing but a vague sense of desperation to think, to act. 

Breathing seemed to require such labor, suddenly, as if a great weight had been put upon his chest. He drew fire into himself with every hard-won breath, scorching his throat and lungs, and igniting his heated blood anew.

Opening his eyes was another painful business, for even the dim candlelight seemed to sear into the center of his forehead. For a moment all seemed blurry, all strange, bent angles and distorted colors and shapes, and he moved his eyes wildly, seeking something upon which he could focus. 

And he found it. By the window, stood a slim-shouldered woman with a spill of golden hair down her back. It was the color and the fall of the hair that oriented him, and his world took a sharp spin and then settled and what he knew as pure relief washed over him, and for a moment he had peace. All the pain in his body receded in the rush of joy.

But it was not right, and even as he felt some measure of ease, his brain was grasping what his heart denied for just a beat longer. It was wrong. Something was wrong. The color was wrong. This was not wheat straw and fresh hay, not a rainbow of earthy hues, but rather a sheaf of moon-silver, touched with a bit of rising sun. 

She turned at once, as if he'd made some sound, and he was not sure whether his wife's name had left the lips he'd formed around the word or not, or if she had just sensed his wakefulness.

Aeliné, sister of Legolas. Not Éowyn. 

Flashes of memory, like the lightning that had split the sky open on that night, assaulted him, and he felt his heart thrash hard against his chest, felt the wounds there stretch and bleed as he struggled for air. Blood everywhere as the men who had ridden under his command died all about him. His wife upon her horse, caught in the struggle, trying to come to his side, and unable to get through the vicious fighting. Stumbling among the dead, looking for life and finding none, finding himself utterly alone amongst them and fearing above all else that he would see a spill of golden hair in the midst of the carnage.

"Éowyn," he tried to say again, in question now, but the words would not come. It was too hard. A word, the most important word, was too difficult. He could not manage it.

As the fair she-elf reached him, Arwen also came into his field of vision, leaning over him and placing a hand against his cheek, a hand that was so cold that it nearly froze against his skin. It seemed to him, as his discomfort mounted the longer he remained conscious, that someone had slid molten blades underneath all the skin in his body, and deep into his chest and middle. He burned; he was scalded with white pain.

"Do not try to talk for you are still very weak, Faramir. They are searching for Éowyn and they will find her. Aragorn will find her." Arwen said with sureness as she sat in the chair beside his bed and took his hand. 

Her presence seemed familiar to him, and he wondered if whatever it was that had seemed to watch over him had been Arwen all along. Wondered if she had been at his side for as long as he'd been here, speaking sometimes but more often just being, a constant and watchful force above him. It had been her to draw him back, he thought. Her presence, not the one he sought.

Aeliné was speaking to him and it took great will to turn his eyes up into her face, and disappointment rose in his throat and choked him as he watched her hair swing down over her shoulders and swing just above his face. He felt his tears, cool too against heated skin, fall. He had not the strength to fight them, nor the desire. 

"Stay with us, Faramir. Stay," Aeliné asked him, her hand upon his forehead as she called him.

He wanted to turn his head and avoid the touch, avoid whatever it was she would say to hold him to the surface. He was too weak to move, so instead he closed his eyes, shutting out the grave faces above him. He did not want them. He wanted nothing but Éowyn, and these two elves could do nothing for her.

He let himself sink and soon he was falling, falling back into the depths of gray.

*

Aragorn sat upon his mount and watched the road towards Helm Deep, and felt a growing sense of unease when he contemplated leaving without Legolas and Gimli. He had grown too accustomed to their presence in times of danger, he supposed. Having them with him gave him a sense of security, and knowing the strength with which the dwarf swung his axe and the deadly accuracy of the elf's aim, he knew there was reason in the confidence he placed in them.

A light touch upon his knee startled him and he looked down to see the Queen of Rohan standing at his side, with an encouraging smile upon her fair face. Her eyes alone bore her strain. She had been gracious hostess to all, even though Aragorn knew her worry must be divided between her cousin, her husband, and his sister. 

The Hobbits, in fact, were still taking advantage of the meal she had supervised for all those riding from Edoras. Aragorn feared that Merry and Pippin would be unable to climb onto horses with their bellies so full of the feast and gave an impatient glance at the Hall.

"They are finishing their meal now," she said with a wry smile. Her eyes then turned toward the road Aragorn had been watching. "I will send them both after you, my lord, just as soon as they return from the caverns. Legolas and Gimli should not be more than a day behind you," Lothíriel assured him. "They will catch you ere you reach the Shire, for they will travel faster than the company."

Aragorn nodded and looked steadily at the Queen, gathering the dark thoughts from her eyes until she bowed her head too late to hide the sudden shine of tears there and spoke to him.

"I worry for him, my lord. He feels such responsibility for all the pain that his sister has known. He still believes, though she is wed, that it is his duty to protect her from all harm. I worry that he will grow reckless in his pursuit of her. I worry what he shall do if the worst has happened."

"Lady, I will watch over him."

"Those words would give me comfort, Elessar, if I had not seen the same determination and desperation in your own eyes."

Aragorn was a little surprised by this revelation and he blinked once and remained silent.

"You do Éowyn, nor those that love you, no service by rashness or foolishness. Bring her home, but bring yourselves as well." Lothíriel commanded him.

He nodded once, and it did not seem strange that this young woman of his own nation scolded him in this moment. She was right. He was in a restless mood and it was fueled by Éomer's urgency. If they let their fear for Éowyn overcome them, they would fail her and those that depended upon them.

The Queen said no more as her King strode up to where Aragorn and his men sat upon their mounts, waiting to depart. The creeping light of dawn touched the lines of Éomer's face and his eyes, and Aragorn indeed saw that nothing might stop Éomer, no matter the danger involved. 

Aragorn felt Lothíriel's knowing gaze upon him and he gave a brief nod without meeting her eyes, understanding now what it was she saw in them both and why it frightened her.

"None of my men are missing, Aragorn," Éomer said quietly. "They are all accounted for. Be on your guard." 

Uneasiness swept across Aragorn's shoulders and suddenly the back of his neck seemed vulnerable to the men of Rohan, who were at this moment preparing to ride behind him. 

Aragorn gave a brief nod and turned his horse away to allow the Queen to say her goodbye to Éomer. 

As ever, Turen was directly behind him so that his horse's head nearly clashed with the boy's mount. Without invitation, Turen rode at his elbow as they made their way through the men of Gondor. Aragorn could practically hear the boy chewing on his question so at last, Aragorn sighed and glanced at his protector.

"What troubles you?" 

"Well, my lord, is it not a good thing that there is no man missing from Éomer's ranks? Perhaps then the traitor was not of Rohan at all."

Aragorn shook his head and spoke his own thoughts on the matter aloud, as much for his own benefit as for the boy's. "Éowyn knows the people of Rohan better than most others, and perhaps better than the King himself. She never would have ridden so soon on the word of any but one she recognized and trusted, especially not with what must have seemed such absurd news to her." 

"Absurd?" Turen asked.

"Éomer falling from his horse. He is the best horseman of this age, Turen. Horses do not throw him so easily."

"But if none are gone…I mean to say, why are none missing?"

"Because he has most likely returned, Turen. He is most likely among us."

"Why would he come back, my lord?"

"Because he intends to betray us again," Aragorn murmured and saw Turen's face turn pale. "We do not know who he is, Turen, but perhaps you will remember. I want you to watch carefully, and if any of the men seem familiar to you at all, I want you to tell me immediately. Me and no other."

*

"And I thought the dark days were done," Gimli sighed, much later, as Legolas finished his tale of the ambush and all that had occurred since. "Éowyn has known much pain in her young life already." 

"But she is strong," Legolas murmured as Gimli pushed away his nighttime snack of meat and ale, seemingly having lost the heart and the appetite required to do it any justice. 

"'Tis still a lot to ask of her. And she had just found her happiness with the Steward." 

"He is not dead yet," Legolas reminded Gimli sharply, and both were taken aback at the fierce sound to his words. 

Gimli recovered first and nodded. "I know it well enough, lad. But neither will walk away unchanged, and this you can not deny."

Legolas avoided pointing out that he was far older than the dwarf and hardly a lad by anyone's standards. Gimli had been calling him a lad almost since he'd known him and he admitted, however inane it was, that there was some comfort in the fatherly tone of the dwarf's voice.

There was both comfort and wisdom in the words that Legolas had long come to expect from the dwarf. "Forgive me. Time does not move quickly for me as it is, and it seems much time has passed and my questions for Éowyn's safety have been unanswered for too long." 

It was then that the same scream that had ripped into Legolas' ears in the open mountain air surged through the stone corridors, reverberating and multiplying in the hollow spaces, until it seemed that it filled Legolas and drove everything else out of his mind and heart. Before he was quite aware of himself, he was running, running down the corridor and toward the girl. 

As he narrowly avoided braining himself upon a low jutting stone in the cavern ceilings, Legolas heard the heavy footsteps of Gimli behind him. He did not wait for the dwarf, but neither did Gimli ask him to. Fora's raw throated screams still pushed against him, still knifed into his ears and his senses, and there was enough horror in the sound to bring Legolas' heart thundering into his throat. 

When he reached her chambers, the door was ajar and he pulled a short knife from his boot as he entered. Both of Gimli's guards stood frozen inside the doorway, watching the scene before them in horror. For a moment, Legolas could do no more than they, for never in his time on Arda had he seen such a sight.

She still screamed, teeth bared, her slight form twisting amongst the furs of her pallet, writhing and arching as if with great pain. Her fingers were anchored in strands of hair slick with perspiration and she pulled at it frantically, until Legolas wondered that her scalp did not lift from her skull altogether. Her face was the color of blood and her eyes open and staring, fixed at some point above her. She kicked out wildly with her legs, and Legolas saw as she did so that long, thin scars marred the backs of her calves. 

It was only as Gimili arrived and commanded Legolas to wake the girl that Legolas shook off his own horror and pity. 

"Leave us," Legolas heard Gimli tell his guards as he approached the bed cautiously. Aware suddenly that he was still holding his weapon, Legolas slid the knife back into his boot. 

She still shrieked, howling words that had no meaning at all, but exhaustion was beginning to claim her. She shivered and sweated, she gnashed her teeth as tears ran down her cheeks. At last, moved to end her suffering, Legolas reached out and placed a gentle hand upon her forehead, calling her name.

The touch might have burned her like a brand for she jerked and screamed anew, and her hands wrapped around his wrist, her fingernails biting into his skin and leaving ten bloody crescents there. Her gaze turned to him, eyes uncomprehending and wild. He had not noticed before just how dark her eyes were, darker than even his own eyes, and the firelight seemed not to reflect in them at all, gave them no depth or facet. It was as if he looked into deep, still water on the darkest hour of the blackest night of winter.

He was unsettled and it caused his reactions to slow, so that he did not escape her grip as quickly as he might have. She scratched his arm and then reached hands curled almost into talons toward his face, as if she would put out his eyes. Legolas grasped both of her wrists and pinned them above her, and still she struggled, fighting, trying to bite him and nearly succeeding. She bit her own lip and blood ran in a trail from the corner of her mouth, flew from her lips as she began screaming again.

Legolas gave her a shake and then gentle words. "Wake, little one. Wake from this horror you have fallen so deeply into."

At last she fell still, blinked, and it seemed that the light touched her eyes again, and glittered there when new tears filled them. Her chest, sunken in her malnourished frame, heaved with exertion and sobs that she tried to hold back. Her breathing sounded and looked painful, coming to her only in wheezing gasps. She stared at Legolas, first in confusion and then in fear, and Legolas instantly released her and sat down slowly on the bed, bewildered by what had just transpired and unsure of what he should do next. 

"She is in a black place. A dark, dark place and she does not know the way home." Fora whispered, her words raw and her eyes enormous in her flushed face. One of her small hands rose to gingerly touch the swelling gash upon her lip, and Legolas noted how both still trembled. 

"It was only a bad dream," Legolas murmured to her softly and reached into his pocket for a soft cloth, bringing it slowly to her mouth and pressing gently there to slow the bleeding. He did not know whether to ask her who she spoke of or not, but he decided that she would tell him if she wished. 

His eyes did not leave hers, but she looked away, and in a moment, Legolas felt her touch upon his wrist, did not protest as she turned it to study the scratches she'd put there. Her tears broke then, rushing down her cheeks and apologies spilled from her. Legolas placed his finger over her lips to silence her and shook his head.

"There is no great damage here," he assured her, turning his wrist so that she could see for herself that it still functioned as a wrist is supposed to. "It does not pain me and it is not worth your tears. And you. Are you hurt?"

It seemed that his kindness undid her and she shook her head and could not stop her tears. Legolas took the hand that rested limply by her side and he held it in both of his. Her skin was cold and clammy but her fingers grasped his tightly with encouraging strength. In a moment, she brought her other hand around his uninjured wrist and she held to him as if she had never known a comforting touch in her life.

As if she were terrified of losing something so newly found.

Legolas glanced at Gimli and saw the dwarf standing solemnly at the door, eyes upon the girl and pity written in all the lines of his face. He said nothing, and neither did Legolas. After they had sat through a storm of weeping from Fora, the three of them alone and silent in the room, Fora hitched an uneven breath and looked to Legolas.

"Please do not leave me with strangers in the morning. I want to stay with you," she whispered.

"Little one, I promise that you will be seen to safe hands and that we shall meet again. But I now have an important errand that cannot wait and I have need for great haste. I ride into danger." 

"I can be quick. I will cause you no trouble. I will care for you, or your horse, if you wish. I will not be frightened. I will not mind if you let the horse run. I do not fear the fall."

As terrified as she was of the horse, Legolas thought he could understand the sacrifice she was willing to make. And it was hard to turn her away. Harder than he had anticipated, and the words were difficult to give her. "Fora, the dwarf rides with me. And the horse cannot carry three."

"I will ride another horse then. Do not send me to Edoras! Take me with you."

"But we ride for Edoras at dawn," Legolas told her gently.

She sat up slowly and looked deep into Legolas' eyes. "They will be gone when you get there," she murmured. "I can help you find her. I see her."

There was a rustle of fabric and an intake of air as Gimli straightened behind Legolas in surprise.

"Who will be gone?" Legolas asked, suspicion rising and taking him unaware. "What do you know of what it is we seek? What have you seen?"

Fora did not answer right away, but she looked to Gimli and then to Legolas and Legolas did not think that he could have looked away from her gaze, even had he tried. When she spoke, it was almost as if it was from far away, and the voice seemed older, somehow. Wiser perhaps, and as she said the words, there was no shadow of doubt upon Legolas, no question of the knowledge she gave him.

"They are riding from Edoras now, but a dangerous road awaits them. He will need you."

"Who will need me?" Legolas demanded.

"The King," she murmured. "He rides into danger." 

"What do you know of this, lassie?" Gimli asked on a growl. "What games do you play here? Stop speaking in riddles!"

Fora still did not take her eyes from Legolas, nor did he look away from her. 

He understood her now, understood the terror of her dreams for they were not nightmares, but visions. Prophecies. Mind whirling with his knowledge, he spoke very slowly, trying to force his words to come calmly so that he did not alarm the child. He did not ask questions, for he was certain he was right. "You have the gift of foresight. You see things in your dreams. You have seen her. You dreamed of her."

Her face grew very pale as she nodded and whispered to him, still grasping his hands.

"You seek a white lady in a black place. She waits at the edge of the world, walking the edge of an abyss. She is close to the darkness, for her hope has been taken from her, and so much more."

To be continued…

****

Ah, the evil cliffhanger. How I love thee. But I'll throw out a bone…

In the next chapter: Aragorn, Éomer, Merry and Pippin set out on an uneasy journey, and Gimli and Legolas disagree about what to do about the girl.

And now, for my apologies and excuses for the delay in this new chapter. I moved to a new apartment, and it always takes me awhile to feel settled in enough to write in a new place. So, my muses spent a lot of time sitting on top of my monitor with their little legs swinging down in front of the screen (my muses look like miniature gremlins, the ones that were fed after midnight, I've decided), and I stared at the screen and at them, and they stared blankly back at me and we had us a week-long staring contest. 

You can be the judge of who won…the stubborn muses or the chapter. 

Thanks as always, to all you guys. 

Kaz: Your wish is my command! The Faramir/Arwen bit was just for you. Glad you like the way the story is going. I've always wanted to write one with almost everyone…and this idea is the closest I've come. Oh, and Slings and Arrows, chapter one, is in the works right now and I'm feeling amused by it, so my guess is that I'll start posting that one in a week or two.

Lamiel: I'd be lying if I said that reading your Gimli didn't help me write my own. As I've said before and again, I totally buy every character you choose to write. Your new chapters by the way…well worth the wait, but I'd expect no less. 

Dot: (they changed your screen name on you!) anyway, I'm really still so tickled that you checked up on me, and at last the muses have decided to cooperate somewhat and at least let me squeeze this bit out of them before clamming up again. As for the hobbits and surprising the readers…LOL. You caught me! I do like to surprise everyone with random appearances and events! As for them being split up…don't worry. They'll reunite very soon and go forth together…well except for Arwen and Faramir who are stuck back at the homestead for awhile I'm afraid. 

JastaElf: It turns out that sweet Legolas is fun to write too, and I'm enjoying writing him with the girl very much. As far as Éowyn…my original plan was to keep the reader in the dark since the others are and it seems only fair…but I'm considering, a little anyway, revising my view on this. We'll see…or I may have news of her come through other channels…so to speak.

Sphinx: Guilty! Of holding the cards close to the chest. I am just a control freak and like to let it all unravel slowly…of course, if it gets annoying how much I withhold, I need to know that too! 

Wellduh: Well, I won't say if she's evil or not, but I do give you my word that she's not a Mary-Sue. Rangers honor.

IvoryNovelist: Good to hear from you too! As for writing something of my own…that I have done in volumes! As for getting it published, well I happen to be a real chicken terrified of sending it out, but sweet words like this do make me feel better. And the fluffy new story is in fact in the works now, so sit tight for that one! 

Lirenel: BWAH HA! A chapter later and are any of your questions answered? My, I do tend to drag things out a bit, but maybe you're a little closer to a guess about the girl now than before? 

IceAngel: They changed your screen name too! I LOVED the graphic you made on your site for this story! I'm always so impressed by anyone that can do anything with graphics programs at all. I'll add your site to my bio page as soon as I get back home, where I have it bookmarked. Oh, and as for Faramir, I will give you my word that he does play an important part in this fiction, throughout, really…though his recovery will be anything but simple.

Estelcontar: So, I'm thinking this chapter may not have made you feel much better about Aragorn…just know that if I do torture the ranger, it's very hard because I love him too. That doesn't mean I won't do it, mind you, just that it's painful. Wow…that is a dark fiction that can make computers crash! ACK…who knew the pen was mightier than the virus program…or something. And if you didn't see above, chapter one of the sequel to "sneezes" is well on its way. Expect it very soon!

LegyLuva: Well, I hope you had a happy holiday. I'm guessing you start school again soon, so you and Michelle Frodo will be writing on each other in no time at all. I imagine you didn't miss much from me while on your vacation because I've been hung up with this story for a few weeks, but maybe you'll be back to tell me what you think of what's going on with this chapter!

Gwyn: Okay, so I'm thinking that being upset that the chapter ended is better than someone being upset that it didn't end sooner, so thanks for that! Well, I didn't post it soon, but at least I did finally post another chapter.

If I left anyone out, I'm sorry…my stats page tells me I have two less reviews than the number reported at the top of the actual story, and I'm not sure which figure is right or if I missed some reviews or not. If I did, feel free to send me a nasty email for not seeing your review! 

Thanks again, and as always, I work for reviews! 


	8. In Shadows Dwelling

A/N: I know it has been quite a long while, but I would like to finish this story. The problem is that I'm coming off of two years of writing a dissertation—the polar opposite of creative writing (thus the long absence of any desire or inspiration to write for my own enjoyment, but I've defended it now and am thank God, done!). I'm a little shaky on my writing pins yet. This is me trying to get my swing back. My guess is that I've got a lot of practicing to do before this is easy for me again.

**Chapter Eight: In Shadows Dwelling**

Legolas, always uneasy with the mountain pressing down on his shoulders, found his uneasiness increase threefold by Fora's screaming nightmare and by her revelation that she knew something of Eowyn. So that he might compose himself, he rose from the pallet where she lay and turned his back deliberately on Fora. Disentangling his hand from her tight grasp had been a bit of a task, but she had at last let go.

He often found it hard to breathe in the caverns, and he took a few deep slow breaths. He tried hard to conjure the pure and open air of his forest. The sudden taste of salt water on his tongue, and the pain of the longing that came over him at the imagined breath of sea further shook him.

He glanced at Gimli, who had been watching him intently but quickly looked away. Legolas passed the dwarf and went to the low table in the corner of the room, where the food and drink brought to Fora had remained untouched. Gimli said nothing, but turned back to watch the girl, now with suspicion where before there had been only pity.

Legolas poured water into a silver goblet and returned to the cot and furs that served as her bed, pushing the water into her hands as he sat down on the blankets beside her. "Drink," he suggested and when her hands trembled as she tried to grasp the heavy goblet, he reached to steady it.

Drink she did, with his aid, gulping thirstily and nearly finishing the water.

"Tell me what you saw in your dream. Everything you can remember," Legolas commanded Fora gently as he placed what remained of her water on the small table at her side.

Her eyes met his nervously and then slid away. "Must I?"

"Yes," Legolas said firmly. "Everything you have seen about the White Lady and the King."

Fora sighed shakily and began, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't see. Things are not clear. But I feel things in the dream... things that I never really see...it is very hard to explain..."

"Try," Gimli growled, his voice growing thick with emotion, "a fine lady's life hangs in the balance, and the lives of all who love her!"

Fora winced and Legolas cast a reproachful glance at the dwarf, which was met only by his defiance. Gimli was very fond of Eowyn.

"I think she is in a place not touched by sunlight. An underground room, or a cave perhaps, or perhaps it is only that I saw her in the night. Her clothes are dirtied and torn about her, and there are marks upon her skin. Marks of cruel hands. She will not give in, though I feel she draws close to surrender. If she surrenders, he will kill her."

"Who? Who has put his hands upon her?" Gimli growled and brought the end of his axe sharply against the stone floor. The clacking sound reverberated in the small room.

Legolas noticed that his own fingers had curled into the furs beneath him until his knuckles turned pale and with effort, he relaxed them. His shortness of breath seemed to have returned, as if the air below was of too poor a quality to sustain him.

Did Eowyn feel this, in her underground prison, as if the air was too foul to sustain life and hope? Did she, every moment, struggle against the despair and panic pressing down upon her with the weight of the world above? How would dear, firey Eowyn fare in a place where nothing of the light lived?

"Who is this man? I will end him! " Gimili demanded again when Fora did not answer.

"I do not see his face. He leaves her to herself and to her dark thoughts for long hours, with no light and no comfort. At first, she spoke aloud to keep the terrible silence and darkness at bay, but now she is quiet and she no longer looks for escape. He knows he is driving hope from her heart and light from her spirit. He feels joy when she is in shadow, for it is where he dwells."

"What do you mean you have not seen his face, and yet you know his thoughts?" Legolas questioned, throat growing more and more constricted.

"In the dream, I see through his terrible eyes, I felt his hatred in my hands, I feel the pleasure he takes in the pain he inflicts upon her. And I cannot stop it. I do not want to feel him hurting her..."

"Where is she then? Where is it that he's taken her?" Gimli demanded and Legolas could feel his agitation rising. For his own part, he watched Fora struggle through the memory of her dreams and felt that she told them all she could. It was frustrating indeed that this was the only news they had of Eowyn, only news of her pain and ill use and no way to put an end to it.

"I do not know. I have not seen where she has been taken either. Only the darkness of the place. I do not know if she is yet there or if it is a future for her that I see."

Gimli roared in frustration, "you speak in riddles!"

Legolas ignored him. "What else? What else of the Lady?"

"I can almost touch her grief," Fora's voice seemed old suddenly, and wistful. "She must have known great love, to know such great loss."

"She thinks Faramir dead. She must have seen him fall," Legolas murmured quietly to Gimli, then turned back to Fora. "How often have you had these dreams? Is this what you dreamed before I found you in the mountains?"

"For six nights I have felt her. And each night I feel more of her pain, more of her despair, and I feel him revel in it."

"And the King who searches for her. What have you seen of him?"

"There are two Kings. The Dark One feels unfriendly eyes upon him, but he knows not from where. I see a shadow in the night, a shadow that threatens to overtake him when his guard is down. And I feel flames. Flames that reach high enough to burn the sky and smoke that is as thick as poison. These are his doing...the one who hurts the Lady."

"What else have you seen?" Legolas persisted.

"That is all that I have seen!" Fora insisted.

"Nonsense!" Gimli snarled, his worry making his voice more fierce than usual. "All that screaming? What else have you seen? She withholds something!"

"Is it not enough that I have been forced to see this much? Is it not enough that I feel him hurt her?" Fora insisted, pulling herself closer to the wall and further away from Legolas. "I have seen nothing else! Just the Lady and the Kings, and striking me will not make things more clear to me! I swear it!"

Legolas and Gimli, whatever they'd been expecting, hadn't expected to hear that, and for a moment neither said a word. Legolas considered the scars on the back of the girl's legs, and imagined that others had tried to gain from the girl's tortured dreams, and had taken their frustration with her inability to tell all out upon her flesh.

"Do ye think we'd lay a hand on ye lassie?" Gimli asked, his voice a bit less of a growl than it had been. Whatever mistrust he had toward the child, he seemed stung to the core that she had mistrust of him.

"She has no reason to expect any more of us than of most, and plenty of reason to expect less seeing as how you've been roaring at her," Legolas guessed.

Fora shook her head. "No, you are kinder than most...but you seem to have great need of knowledge, and I cannot give you more. Not yet. I cannot control what I see."

Legolas nodded. "You cannot give more than you have, little one. It is grim news you give us, but at least she is alive."

Fora hesitated a moment before looking at Legolas. "I think that our paths run together...I think that you must take me with you."

"Absolutely not! It is too dangerous by far!" Gimli asserted before Legolas could respond.

Legolas however, drew a deep breath, and to Gimli's dismay, sighed. "We shall discuss it soon. For now, rest."

"You will not leave before we have talked again?" Fora asked softly.

Legolas gave her a smile and brushed a damp strand of hair back from her forehead. "I promise I will not leave before we talk again. Rest now, as well and as long as you may."

He stood and met Gimli's half-disbelieving, half-mutinous look, and left the chamber before the dwarf. He continued through caverns, past the guards, up the staircase and at last burst out under the stars and doubled over, hands on his knees. Breathing, breathing. Gasping.

His ears were filled with the sound of waves thrashing at the shore.

Aragorn could not tell whether the gaze he felt boring into the most vulnerable spot between his shoulder blades belonged to the anxious and eager Turen, never more than a half horse-length behind his own stallion or whether the gaze was full of sinister intent from somewhere further back in the line. He found himself, not for the first time, wishing to have his Captain Barmor with him if he could not have his Steward or Legolas there instead.

There was a traitor among them. Although there had been no sign of further treachery in the three days and two nights they'd been traveling toward the Shire, Aragorn grew more and more sure that a foe rode at their elbows. Aragorn found himself loathe to bring evil into the Shire with him, to the place of peace that his good Hobbits had found again. But in the Shire lay their hope for Eowyn, and so they made their uneasy way forward.

Eomer, at the head of the line, rode as always tall and proud, but Aragorn and those that knew him best might have detected the stiffness in his own carriage as well; a rigidness that spoke of tension and fear. They took only brief respites for the sake of the horses. For their part, the men of Rohan all seemed eager and tireless to a fault in the pursuit of their Lady. Yet, Aragorn often caught Eomer's stare relentlessly combing the faces of his men, looking for the smallest indication of betrayal.

Aragorn could not help but notice that one of the men that Eomer studied most intently was Turen himself. As a result, Aragorn found himself watching the boy more carefully. He might have, and in retrospect supposed he had, staked his life on the fact that Turen was not their traitor. However, his confidence in his own instincts was badly shaken. If he had not grown soft in peacetime, he thought, he never would have whiled the evenings and days away with his lady while men of his charge died in his stead.

Bitterness rose in Aragorn's throat, fighting with the heartsickness that had been lodged there since they had news of Eowyn's steed returning without her. Why in the name of the Valar had they been asked to sacrifice so very much in the War of the Ring if the evil had not been purged from the land after all? It was as if he could see the Darkness of the East falling back across them, and they seemed to ride deeper and deeper into shadow.

And, Aragorn knew, one of the fair-faced servants of Darkness followed them further into it and was silently gleeful that soon, very soon, would be the time to strike.


End file.
